


In Over Their Heads But Making It Work Anyway (Project Runway—Stargate Style)

by puddleofgoo



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack, Drama, F/M, M/M, Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-06
Updated: 2011-07-06
Packaged: 2018-01-13 07:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 140,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1217134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddleofgoo/pseuds/puddleofgoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stargate Atlantis meets Project Runway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was all because of one of my guilty pleasures and quite a bit of a departure for me, but a lot of fun. Much thanks much go to my beta, Jane, who gave me tons of good advice. I took most of it, so if you find something weird or funky you can be sure that I didn't listen to her for that part. All mistakes are very much my own.

**Project Runway—Season 5.11**

**This Season's Contestants**

Sam Carter, a military brat who was raised all over the United States, and Rodney McKay, another of this year's designers, crossed paths early in their schooling and have been rivals ever since. Sam has much more practical experience, but not as much training as Rodney.

Laura Cadman, from Dallas, TX, is opinionated and speaks her mind. She's fast on her feet and loves any kind of a challenge. Her quirky sense of humor is evident in her designs.

Chaya Sar, a Chicago, IL native, has a natural talent at design, but her construction skills need some refinement. She's been working in the field for years, but spends most of her time designing garments and not constructing them.

Hailing from Washington DC, Elizabeth Weir, graduated from a high-end fashion school and has been working in her family's shop. She's hoping the show will give her the exposure to launch her own line.

The youngest of the contestants is Jennifer Keller from Madison, WI. She's young and eager, but a mediocre designer with a passion for shorts. She's won awards in junior competitions, but she is too afraid to take risks.

A New York native, Daniel Jackson, is a bookish guy and has thoroughly explored the history of fashion. He has the tendency to talk non-stop about the historical origins of each and every garment and notion.

New York City born and bred, Calvin Kavanagh thinks New York City is the fashion capital of the world—and if you haven't trained there, you're nothing. He's arrogant, elitist, and snobby—but his talent speaks for itself.

Miko Kusangi, from Los Angles, CA, is timid and unassuming but has impeccable design sense. Her parents were immigrants but she was born in the States and dreams of combining Asian and Western design ideals.

A California boy, Evan Lorne, from Los Angles, has been to fashion school and has a passion for fashion. His inspired designs and sheer creativity with fabric landed him a spot on the show.

Vala Maldoran is this season's wild-child. Born and raised in San Francisco, CA, she's a free spirit and takes everything to the extreme.

Rodney McKay from Toronto, Canada, is a perfectionist when it comes to his craft. He has studied at all of the great design schools—could even be considered over-trained—but has no real-world experience or real practical application.

Sha're, from Eagle Nest, New Mexico, is Native American and is trying to break out of the stereotypes and expectations of her family. Her design aesthetic is very natural and organic.

John Sheppard, born and raised in San Francisco, CA, this bad-boy part-time surfer bum has no formal training in fashion design, but has a raw talent and an eye for making weird stuff work.

Steve and Bob Wraith, from Elkins, Tennessee, are brothers. They're talented and their design style is unique, but no one likes them. Not even Tim Gunn.

Radek Zelenka, is one of the oldest contestants this year and hails from Prague, Czech Republic. He's studied in Paris and Italy, and is hoping this show will help him launch a formal career here in the US.

***

John Sheppard was lounging on his futon, grinning from ear to ear. His mobile phone dropped from his fingers to the cushion beside him. The producers had finally narrowed it down to the top sixteen who would be competing this season, and he was one of them.  

He was going to be on Project Runway.

Rescuing his phone from beside him, he made his first call to Teyla Emmagen, one of his closest friends who just so happened to be dating his other close friend Ronon Dex. That saved him a call. If anything, he was efficient—and a guy. The less time he spent talking the better. He made plans with her to celebrate at their favorite local restaurant down at Fisherman’s Wharf at 7 PM.

The next call was to his brother—the required call. Dave really didn’t get the whole fashion thing, but unlike their father, who was horrified and embarrassed by the whole thing—not the least of which was because John had stopped pretending not to be gay at the same time he had declared fashion was the direction he was going in for his professional life—Dave at least was willing to cautiously support John in making this attempt.

He was excited and, if he wanted to be honest, a little nervous. He'd applied to be on the show eons ago, mostly as a lark—and maybe even as a prank. Designing clothes was fun, but he wasn't under the illusion that it would pan out of be a real job. But now…

When his brother picked up the line, John's grin got even bigger. "Guess what?"

Dave didn't miss a beat. "You shaved your head again."

That earned a quick laugh. "No, but good try. For now I'm sticking with the tousled bed-head look. I'm going to be on television!"

"Television?" Dave said sounding confused, but he was quick with a comeback. "Did they need an extra for the new 90210 or something?"

"Haha. You know I gave up on acting when I moved back to San Fran. No, I applied for Project Runway, and after jumping through all their hoops, they've named me a finalist! I'll be one of the top sixteen!"

There was a long pause. In the silence, John could hear the sound of sirens and cars outside his brother's office in New York. "Project Runway."

John nodded, even though they were on the phone. "Totally. I've been having a blast helping Kiki out at her shop, and some of my stuff has even sold. If I won, I could start my own line."

"I thought you were doing the…surfing thing. You know…competing and whatnot," his brother said. "Didn't you just buy that board?"

"Yeah. But even I know I can only do that for so long before someone younger and less beat-up steals the title. We're talking about $100,000 here, along with a spread in Elle magazine, and they'd sell my collection online."

"You could use the money."

"Exactly!" John got up, almost doing a little dance around his apartment. "And hell, even if I don't win, it's exposure. A lot of the contestants go on to get hired by high-end firms and designers. You keep telling me I need to stop dicking around and actually think about my future. This could be my jumping-off point."

"Well," Dave said, clearing his throat, "I didn't say that exactly…"

John waved a hand in the air. "Same difference. It is going to be fucking awesome. You'll see. And even Dad will have to give in and admit this is a real career choice, with the potential to make money if I can win this thing."

"Well, it's certainly a…choice," Dave said. "Did you ever finish those courses to be a masseuse?"

"No. I got bored with them," John said waving his brother off. "This is different. I've actually been making and selling a few things. Kiki's clients have started asking me what my next piece will be. If I can carry that through and come out with a full collection..."

"If you stay with it."

"I will. You'll see. This is going to be my big break."

"You know what, John? I hope it is, for your sake. You need something to…get you settled. You should be married and enjoying life, establishing yourself."

John rolled his eyes. "When I meet the right guy, I will settle down. I just... I don't want to just settle. It may be corny, but I want it all in the person I end up with."

"I'm just saying, you're not getting any younger." Dave sighed. It was a well-worn argument. "So, when are you flying to New York?"

"In a week." John went back to bouncing on his toes. "We'll do the promo shots and interviews and stuff, then I guess shooting starts a week after that."

"Give me your flight information once you know it. I'd love to have dinner with you before it all starts. If you want."

"Totally!" John grinned. "And you're gonna watch it on TV, right?"

"Of course. How could I not watch something my brother's involved with? You made me watch all those bad B-movies."

Laughing, John shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, those were all pretty bad. I promise, no more horror films."

"Thank god," Dave said with a laugh. "I can only watch you getting axed and killed in so many really bad films."

"At least they never put me in any red shirts."

"No, but you even have to admit that the Starbridge movie was absolutely horrific. With the aliens sucking you to death…yeah, horrible. If I never see it again, it will be too soon."

John made a face. "And who would believe the premise of a lost city in another galaxy that you get to via portals? I mean, come on."

"Well, you know sci-fi geeks. They'll jump on the bandwagon of just about anything these days. The only good thing that came out of that was when you met Teyla. I still don't understand why you and she never hit it off that way."

"Um, maybe because she's the wrong gender." John shook his head. "Ronon, now... it's a shame he got away."

"You were married, John. You might not remember, but I certainly do."

John sighed. "I do remember. But... Nancy was a mistake. I was trying to be something I'm not, and I made us both miserable in the process."

"The pot didn't help either, I guess."

"For the record, Nancy was smoking just as much of it as I was."

"I'm not saying she wasn't," Dave said, backing off. "Look, I just want you to be happy, settle down…you know that."

"I know, and I'm not mad. I will find someone. I just haven't yet."

"Okay, I have a conference call coming up, so let me go. Email me your flight info and when you think you'd be free for dinner."

"I will. Talk to you soon. Tell Charlotte I said hi. And tell her to set the TiVo for Project Runway. I know you haven't got a clue on how to do it."

Dave chuckled. "Yeah yeah. Talk to you later."

Hanging up, John pulled out a suitcase and started looking at his wardrobe. He made a face. He was going to be on national television, on a show where personal style was judged as much as what you created. He decided he needed to invest in a few more pairs of black jeans and tee-shirts.

Because, honestly, you could never have too many black shirts and jeans.

***

Rodney McKay sighed as he dropped onto his couch, hearing a muffled pop and crack as he settled in. Reaching back, he dug around in the couch cushions coming out with a popped bag of cheese twists. He sniffed them and after a brief consideration to when he actually purchased them, he shrugged and started eating. Only a little stale.

The phone rang, cutting into his personal time. He didn't allot himself that much, so it was irritating.

He shoved two more twists in his mouth before climbing off the couch, searching for the phone. He knew he'd had it yesterday. Or maybe it was the day before. He'd been too busy with his graduate class and the designer he worked for who was a bitch on a good day.

He finally found the phone deep into the cushions of the club chair and stabbed the on button. "Yes? What?"

"Is this Rodney McKay?"

Rodney paused, narrowing his eyes. "Whom, may I ask, is calling?"

"This is Shirley McCallen from the Bravo network."

"Bravo?"

"Yes, Mr. McKay. We've reviewed your tapes and interviews, and congratulations, you've been selected as one of our sixteen finalists for the next season of Project Runway!"

"Okay, did Carson put you up to this? He knows how much I've been looking forward to going on the show, but there is no chance in hell of it actually happening. Who is this?"

There was a polite little laugh. "I assure you, Mr. McKay, you have been selected. I'll be sending airline tickets via courier to the address you gave us on your application. Is that still correct?"

"Ah…" He looked around his apartment. "You're just sending tickets, right? Not people. And cameras. And camera crews."

"No, for now it will just be tickets. You'll be arriving next Wednesday into New York, where we'll have a car waiting to pick you up. The first week you're with us we'll be taking care of promotional shots and videos, getting your bio information, things like that. Then the official competition will start the week after that."

"Are you sure this isn't a joke?"

"I am very sure, Mr. McKay. The producers were impressed by your work, and think you're going to make an excellent addition to this season's cast."

He said something else, vaguely polite, before she hung up, the promise of overnighted tickets still ringing in his ears. He turned the phone off, staring at it in his hand.

He was going to be on Project Runway. On television.

Holy crap.

He ended up on the couch again, head pressed between his knees as he tried not to hyperventilate.

The phone rang again in his hand.

Rodney struggled to draw in a breath even as he automatically hit the "talk" button.

His sister was talking even before he got the phone up to his ear. "...and you have to be there, Mer. You are not making me do this... reunion...thing... all by myself. I am not going to face Mom and Aunt Clara at the same time, all bearing down on me with no one else there to distract them."

"Je…Jeannie?" he finally managed to get out, high-pitched and very breathy.

He could almost hear her eye roll. "Yes, Jeannie, the sister you're throwing to the wolves. You have to come next week. Go online right now and book airline tickets. You are the only one Mom and Clara like to tear apart more than me, and I am not going to face them by myself."

"I can't."

"No, you can. You just won't. How can you be this evil, Mer? You promised me at Christmas last year that you would do this stupid reunion thing with me! Otherwise, I would have come up with an excuse while I still could. So get your ass online and book a ticket."

"I can't. Jeannie…they called me. I just…I'm going to New York next week."

There was a pause. "What? Who called you? And what the hell is in New York?"

"Bravo…the new network for Project Runway." He left it at that, seeing if his sister could connect the dots.

"Project Runway...?" She was silent for a moment, and then he could hear the disbelief in her voice. "No. Not that weird fashion reality show you tried out for last year."

Rodney sighed. "Yes, that one. They're sending me tickets. They picked me."

"Picked you for what?"

"To be on the show! You can't be that dense! I'm going to New York to be a contestant on Project Runway!"

There was another long silence. Then his sister started whooping. "I can't believe it! You're going to be on television! Okay, that is the one acceptable excuse for missing Aunt Clara and I'll be damned if I thought you couldn't find one."

Rodney laughed, really laughed. "They're flying me down next week and I have a week of promos and photographs and everything."

"Wow. This is totally cool, Mer. All those years at those schools is going to pay off. You have to sneak in a camera and snap shots of all the guys for me. I've seen that show—the men are always hot."

"We'll see. They're probably all prima donnas and divas—if they're anything like the ones I've met when I've been in school."

"I don't care what they act like. I just want the pictures."

"And I want the real thing, but we can't always get what we want, now can we?"

She laughed. "Enjoy it while you can."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he asked, indignant.

"That you get to ogle all the hot people on display while you're single. Once you settle down, you have to be more discreet about it."

Rodney laughed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, right. Like you stopped looking."

"Hey, I'm just lucky Caleb doesn't mind. Most guys would and you know it."

"He looks all the time! The whole glass houses and stones thing."

"Exactly. You either need to enjoy it now since you won't be able to when you got someone, or hope like hell you find yourself a Caleb."

"I'm not worried," Rodney said with a shake of his head as he moved toward the kitchen. His cat Kors nearly tripped him as he weaved between his feet, demanding to be fed. "I'm not looking for long-term. A night here or there works great for me."

"You say that now, but wait until you meet The One." She laughed. "Anyway, I want all the dirt on all the other contestants. You know it's way more fun to watch on TV that way."

"And you had better watch it. I don't care if you have to spend some money and get satellite in order to watch."

"Oh, we will. This is the perfect excuse to get satellite. I've been trying to convince Caleb for a while now that we need it."

"Television is as important as food and water," Rodney said, dumping dry cat food into Kors' dish and setting it on the ground. He'd get water later.

"My husband is prehistoric when it comes to that." He could hear the affection in her voice. "Anyway, details. I want them as soon as you get there. Call my cell. It's the least you can do since you're leaving me to fend for myself."

"It's your own fault that you can't say no."

"I thought you were going to be there!"

"I told them months ago I had other things to do."

"Yeah, yeah." She paused. "Hey, I've gotta go. Maddie just got home. Talk to ya later. Remember: Pictures!"

"Maybe!" he said, not even sure his sister heard him as he hung up the phone.

It was still sinking in. He was going to be on Project Runway. He was going to prove to the world that Rodney McKay was one of the best designers in the world.

***

The first week he was there was crazy, to say the least. From what John could gather, all the contestants were being kept at different hotels around the city, and they were coordinating their schedules to make sure none of them even caught a glimpse of the others.  

This was going to be so much fucking fun.

They took a ton of photos and videos, and he got to meet Tim Gunn and Heidi Klum, which was seriously cool. He was actually surprised that they seemed to be as nice off-camera as they were portrayed on the screen.

But what he was really looking forward to was moving in and getting this party started.

Finally, the day arrived. They told him it was being staged so the cameras could get each of the contestants coming in and looking around for a bit before the next arrived. John was the first one in his room, which would hold four of the eight men competing. There were two more rooms of four for the girls, too.

He had his pick of beds and rooms. After a few minutes of deliberation he picked the bed away from everything—the only one that had a hint of privacy. He was dumping his bag on the bed when he heard the front door slam.

When he wandered back out, he spotted another guy staring around the apartment with awe. He was solidly built, muscular. Actually, not bad looking, either.

Putting on one of his more charming smiles, John got his attention. "Hey, there. I'm John."

"Oh, hey. Evan Lorne. Most people call me Lorne," he said with a charming smile.

John really hoped this guy wasn't straight and wasn't seeing anyone. "I took the room furthest back. You're the second one here, so if I were you, I'd choose your bed fast." John grinned again.

"Good. I was hoping no one else would get here early. I want to set up and claim my area," he said, heading toward the bedrooms. "Where are you from?"

John followed him back, glad to see hunky Lorne was choosing the bed closest to his. "San Francisco. You?"

"LA, originally from the Santa Monica area."

"I did a lot of surfing down that way. Ever get to the beaches?" John admired the way Lorne's muscles moved as he started unpacking.

"Some. I wasn't much into surfing, honestly. The beaches—and the views—are great, though." He flashed John a smile before he went back to his bag.

Score! John grinned.

"So you do anything except design?"

"Some odd jobs here and there. At one point I considered joining the Air Force—I love anything that goes more than two hundred miles and hour—but when I thought about the life I would have to live and what I might have to do just to fly…" He shook his head. "I opted for a career that involved people who were a little more…open minded."

"Good plan there," Lorne said. "Open minded is always a good thing."

But before John could say anything else, they both looked up as the door opened and closed again. "Guess our third roommate just arrived."

"Too bad," Lorne said with an answering grin. "Want to go and check him out?"

"I suppose." With another smile, John pushed off from the wall. He hoped all his roommates would be that hot. That would make this even more fun.

There was a small Japanese woman in the foyer, her dark eyes wide as she looked around.

One of John's eyebrows went up. "Um, hi there. Unless you're a very impressive drag queen, I think you might be in the wrong room. I'm John." He stepped forward to shake her hand.

"Miko Kusangi," she said with a blush. "Am I in the wrong place? I thought they'd said 1075A."

"Ahh, this is 1075B. A is across the hall. We're all grouped right here together, I think."

"Oh. I am so sorry. I didn't realize…it's all so confusing, these apartment buildings."

"No worries." John opened the door and held it for her, pointing across the hall. "A is that door right there. Once we all get settled they're having a champagne reception for us on the roof, so I'll see you there, okay?" He'd spotted the note on the board in the kitchen when he walked in.

She dragged her suitcase behind her, nearly running over John's toe. "Oh…I see it. I'm so sorry for walking in on you. I didn't mean to, I'm just…nervous and not used to all of this."

"No problem." John watched to make sure she made it to the right door this time, then shook his head and closed their door. He glanced over at Lorne. "That was interesting. Wonder how she made it past all the checks. Nice girl, but she seems a bit... lost."

"Designers, you know," Lorne said with a chuckle as he stuck his head into the fridge. "Want a beer?"

"God, yes." John accepted what Lorne held out, and then they both crashed on the couch. "So we know there are going to be at least a few bitches or assholes on the show. I propose an alliance to point them out to everyone and make snide, catty remarks at them until they go away."

"Oh, that could be endless amounts of fun." Lorne took a long pull of his beer as the front door opened again. He groaned. "We're not going to get any privacy, are we?"

"Course not." John grinned. "But that doesn't mean we can't push the limits." They both looked up to see who was coming in.

"This place is like something out of my worst nightmare." The nasally words were said with such disdain and accompanied by the thunk of dropping bags. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

"In here." John stood up again and took in the tall guy with long, oily brown hair pulled back into what he probably thought was a cool pony tail. Well, so much for having all hot roommates. "John Sheppard."

"Calvin Kavanagh," he said, weakly shaking John's hand as his eyes scanned the living room. "Is everything done in these hideous colors?"

"Yup. This is Evan Lorne, and he and I are in the beds closest to the windows in the bedroom." He pointed to toward the open door.

Kavanagh more or less ignored Lorne, turning toward the bedrooms and complaining the entire way. His bags he left at the door.

John looked over at Lorne and after a brief moment, they were both smothering laughter. This guy was going to be gone fast with that kind of horrible fashion sense and no ideas about color at all.

The opening door stopped their laughter—that and the sound of someone tripping over bags. "Oh. Who left those there? That's not very thoughtful to just leave their stuff in the middle of the floor."

John smiled. At least this guy seemed a bit less... whiney than Kavanagh. "That would be our fourth roommate, Calvin Kavanagh, who's in the bedroom now. I'm John Sheppard, and this is Evan Lorne." John went over to help him move the bags so he could get in.

"Daniel Jackson," he said, adjusting his glasses as he shook their hands. "Thanks for helping with this."

"Not a problem. The bedroom is over there. If you want, I'll grab you a beer for when you come back out."

"That would be wonderful. I don't remember the last time I had a cold beer," he said, chattering to himself as he made his way back toward the bedroom Lorne and John had claimed.

Shaking his head, John went and got a third beer, setting it on the small coffee table as he sat back down on the couch. "I've never lived with this many people other than my family. This should be really interesting."

"I have three sisters and two brothers," Lorne said with a shrug. "You get used to it."

Chuckling, John leaned back to get his fill of Lorne. Man, he was eye-candy. "I have one brother."

"Only one? Damn, you got away easy."

"And here I always thought I got cheated since everyone else always had tons of brothers and sisters to play with."

"You try having one minute of privacy in a three bedroom house with five other siblings."

With a dramatic wince, John gave Lorne a big wink. "So that means you're adept at finding privacy in small spaces, huh?"

"You could say that," Lorne said, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a knowing smile.

Mmmm, this show was going to be far yummier than he anticipated.

The door banged open a few beats later, the sound of two sets of feet entering the apartment.

John and Lorne looked up as two men walked in, both of them eerily similar looking. What was with the white hair? That was totally not in fashion right now.

"Oh. You're here already," one of the men said—John assumed they were brothers.

Standing, John held out a hand. "John Sheppard. This is Evan Lorne, and two other guys, Daniel and Calvin, are still in the back claiming their beds."

"Bob," the first speaker said, hanging onto their hands a little longer than necessary. "This is my brother, Steve."

"Nice to meet you." John flashed them a smile. They were kind of creepy, but he'd give them the benefit of the doubt.

Steve was already headed back toward the bedrooms, eerily silent, but John could tell that he was taking everything in. He would not want to meet either of those two in a dark alley.

Shaking his head, John shared a look with Lorne as Bob followed his brother. He really hoped these two wouldn't be around for long. He got the impression they were the kind who would ruin the experience for everyone else.

Daniel eventually wandered back out, looking a little uneasy. He sat down on the couch, starting to reach for the beer, but paused. "This mine?"

"Yup." John smiled at him. He wasn't hot in the way Lorne was, but he was pretty cute all the same.

"It's interesting to see people from different areas of the country, isn't it? Bob said they were from a small town in Tennessee, but based on the way they dressed I would have assumed they were from a big city," Daniel said, pausing to take a sip of his beer. "What we designate as edgy, modern or gothic, must be very avant-garde in the small towns they're from. I wonder what conditions nurtured that kind of diversion from the norm."

One of John's eyebrows went up. "You got all that just from meeting them for a few seconds?"

"Of course," Daniel said. "You're both obviously from California, probably have been around the block in the acting world, too. You're both good looking so you probably even got some work." He paused, narrowing his eyes at John. "From your body language, I'd say you probably surfed and you know who you are—and don't particularly care if no one else likes it. And…bi. How right am I?"

As he had talked, John suspected his expression had gotten more and more shocked. "Not bi anymore—decided I'm really not all that interested in women, but I was married at one point, yes."

Daniel inclined his head. "And you're currently unattached, too."

"Okay, how did you know all of that?" John looked around. "Did you read my bio?" Although not all of that –like being currently single—was on there.

"No," Daniel said with a chuckle. "I study people and cultures. You'd be amazed at what you can see if you really look. Take, Calvin, for example. He's city. Well educated. Comes from money, too. You can see that in the clothes he's wearing—nothing even remotely cheap. All high-end and very tailored."

"Okay, that is a seriously cool talent." John grinned at him. He nodded at Lorne. "Do him now."

Daniel took a sip of his beer as he studied Lorne. "Okay. He's West Coast, probably California. Comes from a mid-income family, traditional in a lot of ways. He also discovered himself pretty early on and he's comfortable with it. I'd say…bi, with a leaning toward men more than women."

That was what he liked to hear. Still grinning, John looked over to see how right Daniel had been.

Lorne was nodding, offering a smile. "Pretty close, although I like to think I'm open-minded when it comes to sex. Anyone willing—and good looking—is okay with me."

"So Daniel, with a sweet talent like that, why are you here? You could probably make a fortune being some dignitary's personal aide telling him who to trust or something."

"Fashion is about expressing your personality and getting into your client's head. If you know where they're coming from, it's a lot easier to make something they'll absolutely love."

John shook his head. "I can see that. Still, that's a sweet talent."

"I guess," he said with a shrug, taking another sip of his beer. "Oh, this is great."

They all looked up as the door banged open again. A small man with a head of the wildest hair John had ever seen came bounding in. This guy needed to lay off the caffeine.

"To je úžasné!"

They all stared at him blankly. "Um, hi?"

"Oh. Sorry, sorry," he said as he dragged his bag with him and scurried into the living room area. "I am Radek Zelenka and this is amazing. Never thought I'd make it here."

They watched as he looked around. Shaking his head, John stood up again and held out his hand. "John Sheppard."

Radek looked at the hand for a long moment before shaking it vigorously. "Yes, yes. Nice to meet you."

"Go pick a bed and drop your stuff. We're sampling the beer before we all have to head up to the roof."

"Oh, yes, beer would be good, but not swill they have had in hotel past week," he said, already headed down the hall to the bedrooms.

Chuckling, John sat back down. "Dude seriously needs to lay off the coffee."

"Or maybe he just needs some beer to counteract the coffee, mellow him out," Lorne said, gesturing toward Daniel who was staring at the beer wrapper.

Grinning, John shook his head. This was going to be a wild ride. They had one more roommate coming—he wondered what this one would be like.

He chatted with Lorne a little about California, and laughed at the obviously buzzed Jackson on the other couch. Kavanagh eventually emerged from the bedroom, fluttering around the kitchen as he searched for something better than the beer in the fridge. Radek just rolled his eyes as he grabbed a Molson, wandering into the living room once he pulled off the top.

"So, we are missing one?"

"Yeah, and he should probably be here soon. They spaced us out pretty evenly."

"Whoever he is will have to deal with brothers and him," Radek said gesturing toward Calvin. "I stay with sane ones."

John made a face. "Poor guy. I haven't even met him yet and I already feel bad for him. That was kind of mean of us to leave that as the only open bed, wasn't it?"

"You snooze, you lose," Radek said with an evil smile as he took a sip of his beer. "Much like him, yes?" He pointed to the now-drowsing Jackson.

They all chuckled again, and finally the sound of their last roommate arriving made them all look up.

"No, I don't care that you have to deal with Aunt Clara," he said loudly, the tone sharp. "It's your own fault for not finding a better excuse and I don't want to hear you crying about it. You know what she's like. You're an adult. You can say no—which, I believe, is what I did."

Despite himself, John had to smile as the new guy walked in. He wasn't hot like Lorne was, but there was something about him that John immediately liked. "Hey, there. How'd you manage to get your cell phone in? They took mine as soon as I signed all the paperwork."

"Some of us know better than to just hand things over to strangers," he said sharply, narrowing his eyes at John, before going back to his phone. "No, I wasn't talking to you, but the sentiment's the same. I have to go. I'm at the apartment. Let me get this hellish first introduction thing out of the way."

Grinning, John stood up again. "Hopefully we can make it slightly more pleasant than 'hellish.' Most of us are nicer than that. I'm John."

He hung up his cell without saying goodbye, fixing a glare on everyone in the room. "Is everyone here already?"

"Yup. You're the last to arrive." This guy had the bluest eyes John had ever seen.

"Damn. I told Jeannie I had to go two hours ago, but would she shut up? No. She had to keep whining in my ear about Aunt Clara and the stupid family reunion she couldn’t make up an excuse for to miss." He turned to the bedrooms, dragging his ratty suitcase down the hall.

Laughing softly, John sat back down. "Oh, he's going to be fun."

Lorne was frowning. "Or a royal pain in the ass."

"Probably." John grinned again. "But a fun one. There's a difference between want-to-kill irritating and amusing irritating. He strikes me as the second type."

"Maybe," Radek said. He was scowling. "I had colleague like him, once."

"I have, too," John admitted. "And those were some of the most interesting times of my career. But then, my brother always tells me I have a warped sense of humor."

"Hmm, yes, maybe. One day, colleague simply did not show up for work. I never found out what happened to him." He looked thoughtful for a minute. "Was different time, though…"

They all stared at him. "Where the hell are you from?"

"What? Oh…I was born in small town outside Prague. The Czech Republic. Yes, you know of this?"

John nodded. "Yeah. Wow. You're a long way from home then. How'd you get into fashion?"

"Brought up with many sisters. Father and older brothers all forced into army." He shrugged. "It was different time."

They all took a moment to take that in. Wow. It was a really different path than any of the rest of them had taken, John was willing to bet. He looked up as Blue Eyes wandered back into the living room. "Hey there. Grab yourself a beer and come introduce yourself. We still don't know your name yet."

"Okay, who thought it was fair to leave me with the two Gothic princes?"

"Sorry about that. If you want, you can come share my bed." John flashed a smile.

"No thanks," he said, rolling his eyes as he moved into the kitchen. "I'll have to sleep with one eye open between those two freaks. I’m worried they might try to slit my throat one night once they see my talent."

"Nah, that would get them in trouble with the producers. If they made it this far, they want to win just like the rest of us." John shook his head. "So are you going to tell us your name, or should I just call you Blue Eyes?"

Blue Eyes rolled his eyes again as he pulled open the fridge, pulling out a Molson. "Rodney McKay. And finally—beer that doesn't taste like horse's piss."

"That's what Radek said. We have some beer snobs among us!" John grinned, leaning back. "And I think I prefer Blue Eyes. It's more interesting than Rodney."

"Rodney's my name, so I suggest you use it if you actually want me to reply," he said, scowling. "And what the hell happened to your hair?"

"What's wrong with my hair?" John raised an eyebrow.

"You apparently have no fashion sense whatsoever," he said, dropping into the only chair in the room. "And it looks as if you use more styling products than my sister did in her entire unfortunate hair experiment in the 80s."

"Believe it or not, I don't use any. It does this naturally." He made a face. "I've tried everything including shaving my head to see if it would grow back any different, and finally gave up and embraced my cowlicks."

Rodney snorted, rolling his eyes. "So you claim."

"You want to touch it to see? It's as soft as it could be. No crinkly styling products here."

"No. I don't know what's living in there and I need my fingers."

John laughed. "The offer stands if you're ever feeling brave enough to go exploring."

Rodney snorted. "Well, I'd certainly not be the first one to go exploring. It's not exactly a virgin forest."

"I'm crushed that you think I offer my hair up to anyone who comes along." John looked around at the other men. "Did I offer to let anyone else pet me?"

Lorne and Radek just laughed. "So where is everyone from?" Radek asked, changing the topic.

"Daniel had me pegged. I'm from San Francisco." John grinned.

They ended up chatting for the next hour, Rodney making smart ass remarks throughout, until they had to make their way up to the roof deck for their first official Project Runway filming. The camera crew in the apartment had been filming bits and pieces as they'd arrived and John wondered how much would actually make it into the edited show.

As they wandered out, they finally got to see the girls. John looked them over with interest, but not in the same way he had checked out the men. In the course of their conversation, John had narrowed it down to Lorne and Rodney as the two he would, if given the opportunity, enjoy hanging out with the most. Or more, if it happened in that direction. They were very different, but appealing.

Part of John just wanted to make Rodney smile. He'd been scowling since he arrived. It would be interesting to see how his expression would change if he just lightened up.

He decided then and there that, if they were given the opportunity to pick their stations once they started working, he would do his best to set up near Rodney.

As they arrived on the roof, Tim and Heidi were already waiting for them. Aides handed out glasses of champagne as they all gathered around.

"Welcome, designers," Tim said as he glanced around, smiling at everyone. "I'm glad you all arrived safe and sound. You look rested and ready to begin a new season of Project Runway."

They all nodded, excitement ratcheting up. Heidi picked up the thread. "As you all know, one of you will be the winner of $100,000 to help start your own line, and a deal to sell that line on bluefly.com."

"And this year, we're throwing in something extra, thanks to our sponsor, Evian—an all expenses paid trip for two weeks to Paris, the fashion capital of the world," Tim continued, grinning broadly.

An excited thrill ran through the group. John wanted it, badly. But he knew he was going to have stiff competition from the other fifteen contestants. Heidi smiled. "Tomorrow you'll meet me on the runway for your first challenge. Tonight take the opportunity to get to know each other."

As soon as Tim and Heidi were done, the contestants started buzzing with even more energy, circling around and sampling the food and drink that was offered.

John was already convinced that this was going to be fun. A lot of fun.

***

Rodney groaned as he climbed from his bed, padding on bare feet into the kitchen. His stomach was growling and he was in desperate need of coffee.

The dinner thing last night had been a nightmare. Who thought it was a good idea to have citrus everywhere? Hello! Life threatening allergies! He'd been over it with the producers twenty times. Apparently, he and the television producers spoke a different language.

The smell of coffee lured him out to the living room, where the shaggy-headed John was lounging against the counter. Why did he have to be so good looking and exactly the type of guy he tended to drool over and then was always out of his reach? Usually he just ended up humiliated by those same good-looking perfect guys.

It was too early in the morning for those kinds of thoughts. And, besides, he knew better. It was stupid to dwell on things he could never have. "Where is it?" he demanded not bothering to hide the annoyance he was feeling at himself.

"Morning to you, too." The man was already dressed in all black. "If you're talking about the coffee, it's not ready yet. I just put it on."

"Yes, it is morning. An unfortunate part of the day. And why are you up already? And dressed?" He paused, scowling across the room at the other man. "Oh god, you're not one of those morning people, are you? Or the ones who are really happy after sex. Did you have sex already? You couldn't keep it in your pants for one night, could you?"

John rolled his eyes. "No, I should be so lucky. But yes, I am a morning person. I like to go for a jog before the rest of the world gets moving. It's peaceful."

"You jogged this morning? Oh my god, what time were you up? And I saw that…girl hanging on you last night. I'm sure she puts out on a first date."

"It seems you missed that memo. I'm gay, so she can hang all she wants. If I were to get any action, I wouldn't need to go across the hall."

"Yeah right," he said. "So why didn't you put on the coffee before you ran if you were awake?"

"Gee, thanks for that ringing endorsement." John made a face at him. "I didn't put coffee on earlier because it would have been cold by the time I wanted to drink it. I was running by 4:30."

"The pot stays on," Rodney said, moving back to the kitchen to stare at the coffeepot. "And this is not going to be enough."

"Addicted much?" John didn't move away from where he was leaning, so Rodney could smell his clean aftershave.

"It should be its own food group, and you need to lay off the Aqua Velva. You're going to suffocate me if you don't move."

"I'm not moving. I put the pot on, I get first cup. You want the first one, you can get up before me and put it on."

"If you wanted the first cup of coffee, you should have bought yourself a Starbucks on your run." He shifted, angling his body to prevent the shaggy-haired man from getting in. The coffee was just about done.

"I came back here and made myself a pot. First come, first served." The guy actually had the gall to body-check him slightly just as the coffee maker beeped that it was done. John grabbed the pot and poured into an already-waiting mug he was holding.

"Bastard, give me that," Rodney said, reaching for the now-full mug.

John swatted at his hand. "Pour your own. This is mine."

"Hey!" he exclaimed, pulling back as he looked at the pink mark on his hand. "You hit me!"

John rolled his eyes. He grabbed Rodney's hand and pressed his lips to the mark. They were surprisingly soft. "There. All better now."

Rodney pulled his hand away, scowling at him—and trying to convince his traitorous dick that this was just John's way of putting his fellow contestants on the defensive as he tried to gain the upper hand. It meant nothing. "Get out of my way."

Instead of moving, John turned and grabbed a clean mug out of the cabinet behind him. He poured coffee into it and handed the mug over. "Not sure how you take it. But after today, I'll remember to pull two mugs out and have them ready to go for the first pot."

"Why don't you go and give it to your boyfriend? I'll get my own," he said, handing it back—much to John's surprise if his expression was anything to go by.

He set it down and finally moved away. "That's right, you seem to think I'm sleeping my way through life, despite the fact you just met me yesterday. Sorry to have offended you by offering you coffee."

"I know your type," he said, turning to the coffee pot, grabbing a clean mug from the cabinet. "I'm here to compete, not to make friends."

"I'm here to compete, too, but unlike you, I don't think the two are mutually exclusive. And no, actually, you don't know anything about me other than a snap decision you made based on, apparently, my hair of all things."

"What does it matter?" he asked, pouring his coffee, moving to the fridge to get milk. "You'll be kicked off soon enough. Why should I form any kind of attachments to people I'll never see again?"

"Because I intend to go all the way to the end. I will be in Bryant Park. Besides, we have no idea what the judges will do. Why make an enemy of someone you might have to live with for the next two months?"

"I lived with my parents for fifteen years. I can deal with anyone here for two months." Rodney dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into his mug, swirling the liquid around as he added some milk.

John shrugged. "Up to you. You seem like an interesting person it would be fun to get to know while we're here, but if you're not interested, I'll back off."

"Like I said, I'm not here to make friends." He sipped at his coffee, moaning at how good it tasted going down. "Oh, that's good. I need to get ready. Big day ahead."

John was staring at him now. "Do you always make porn noises when you have coffee?"

Rodney shook his head, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

John shook himself. "Nothing. Never mind. Go get ready. Like you said, big day ahead."

"Yes, yes," he said, waving off John's comment as he headed back into the bedroom. He grabbed his stuff and managed to get into the shower before anyone else crawled out of bed. By the time he was out, everyone was up and running around. It was…insane.

The next hour was a lot of people yelling at each other and trying not to get trampled by all the men trying to get to the mirrors. Rodney caught a few glimpses of John sitting on the couch sipping coffee and looking smug that he was all ready to go.

Rodney was sweaty and out of breath by the time he finally pulled on jeans, a t-shirt, and his Vans, getting his hair into some semblance of normality. He'd shoved a PowerBar in his mouth to get something down, hoping they'd have food at Parsons.

By the time everyone was ready, the producers were calling for them to head down to the waiting vans, where all sixteen of them piled into three vans.

Rodney managed to grab a good seat in the middle—no one was allowed in the front passenger seat except the cameraman—forcing some of the long-legged contestants into the back row. He got car sick so there was no way he was sitting back there.

He was a bit perturbed to discover it was John pressed right up next to him in the front. "I wonder what our first challenge will be," John said, immediately starting to talk as soon as the car door was closed.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe something to do with fashion and design," he snapped, forgoing the _you idiot_ he wanted to tack onto the end. He didn't know what it was about John, but the man just got him all bothered—and not in a good way—and he didn't like it.

Instead of getting irritated, though, John just flashed him a grin. "And here I was hoping it would have to do with turkey sandwiches."

Rodney snorted. "Who knows, maybe it will."

"I'm kind of hungry, so that would be nice."

"You were up at the hairy ass crack of dawn, of course you're hungry. At least you could eat dinner last night and not worry about dying," he grumbled. Damn. Now he was hungry again.

John blinked. "Dying?"

Rodney waved his hand. "Don't worry about it."

"No, I'm curious. You allergic to something?"

"Why? You want to try and poison me to get rid of your competition?" Rodney asked, turning to stare out the window as the New York streets flashed by. It was early yet and there was no traffic. It would be a different story in a few hours.

"No. I was actually thinking that knowing would make sure I never offered you anything that could kill you."

Rodney just shook his head and held his tongue.

He felt John shrug. "I'll get you to trust me and tell me. We have two months, and I've decided you need a friend. Badly."

"I don't need a friend. I have plenty back at home."

"You can never have too many friends, and you strike me as the kind of person who doesn't make them easily. So I've decided you're not going to run me off with the gruff attitude."

"I'm not your pet project," he said sharply. "I don't need or want your…self-guided attempt to do whatever the hell you think you're doing."

"I like you, despite your efforts to the contrary. You're hot, you're interesting, and you're different. So I want to get to know you better."

Rodney snorted. He'd heard that before. Just before the hot guy humiliated him in front of his friends. That was the last thing he needed to deal with here. "Whatever. Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not. I was, as a matter of fact, trying to flatter you. Is it working?"

"No."

"Damn." John flashed him a smile. "Means I'm going to have to try harder, Blue Eyes."

"Name's Rodney."

"I know. But that's not very descriptive. You have beautiful blue eyes. You should play up to them more."

Rodney rolled his eyes, turning to look out the window again. He was starting to recognize the area. Parsons was only a few blocks away.

They arrived a few minutes later and all piled out of the vans. They headed in to the workroom, where they each staked out a table. John, of course, grabbed the station right next to Rodney. Lorne was on the other side of John, and Laura Cadman, one of the women, ended up at the table on Rodney's other side.

Rodney concentrated on setting up his workstation, pulling out his sketch pads, his pencils, scissors, and his other tools he was allowed to bring. A few people were floating around the room, looking at the Macy's wall of accessories and the large sewing machine room. This was…kinda cool, actually. He was here.

Tim Gunn walked in, looking around. "Well, designers, welcome to your new home. If you'll follow me, we'll head down to the runway where you'll get your first challenge."

A few of the women pushed ahead—along with that ass Kavanagh—leaving Rodney somewhere in the back of the pack as they headed down to the soundstage where the runway was set up. It was a little surreal to actually walk onto the set, seeing Heidi there along with… Rodney blinked twice. David Hasselhoff. No. Way.

The man was grinning and flirting with pretty much everyone as they made their way into the chairs set out for them. Tim joined Heidi and David on stage.

"Welcome, designers!" Heidi said, flashing a smile at them once they were settled. Rodney had been forced to perch on a stool in the back with his new annoying "buddy" sliding in right next to him. Rodney scooted his stool a few inches to make some room, but the idiot just grinned and shifted closer once again.

Heidi looked around. "I'm sure you all recognize this week's guest judge, David Hasselhoff. David was the star of the television series Baywatch, and has recently launched his own line of clothing geared toward the beach."

Beachwear? Oh god. Not that! Rodney barely held back a groan. He was from Canada not Hawaii. Oh, he was going to get kicked off in the first challenge and go home and face his sister's mocking.

Next to him, John perked up. Figured the first one out of the gate would be surfer-boy's wet dream.

Hasselhoff grinned at them. "Your challenge is to make a Hoff-tastic set of beachwear any lady would be proud to be seen in. There has to be a bathing suit in there somewhere, but other than that, be creative!"

He was doomed. Absolutely doomed.

Tim took a step forward, smiling down at them. "This is a one-day challenge and you'll have $100 to spend at Mood. You'll also have the opportunity to choose your models this afternoon. You'll be working with them the entire season. We'll go back to the workroom where you'll have thirty minutes to sketch your piece and then we'll be heading off to Mood to shop."

"Good luck designers, and we'll see you on the runway." Heidi smiled at them, and then headed back stage with David Hasselhoff. As soon as the cameras were turned off, Rodney did groan, putting his hand up to his head. Beachwear. What the hell did he know about beachwear? He burned easily. He never went to the beach.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll do fine. Just remember less is more at the beach, and your style perspective can show through in the cover-ups." John was sympathetic.

Rodney shrugged off his hand as he stood. "Whatever. Nothing is going to be able to cover up this disaster."

"You'll do fine." John stood up as well. "Don't count yourself out so soon, or you will be the first one to go. I saw some of your sketches when we were setting up. You're good. Don't forget that, just because this isn't your favorite genre."

"You looked! That was…personal! And not for your grubby eyes. You're trying to steal my designs, aren't you?"

John rolled his eyes as they all headed back to the workroom. "Hardly. You're good, but my style is completely different."

"So you say now," he said, tilting his chin up a little defiantly. "You're just trying to lure me into a false sense of security before you attack. I know you."

John rolled his eyes again. "You just met me. I don't want to win because I sabotaged someone else. I want to win because I'm the best."

"Well, you're not the best."

"We'll see, won't we?" Grinning John headed to his workstation, and they all hunkered down to start sketching.

Rodney grumbled to himself as he settled in, quickly making three sketches and immediately throwing them out. Beachwear. What did he know about beachwear? He hadn't been to the beach in a good fifteen years. He sighed, quietly, trying to come up with something—anything really—that would pass as a bathing suit and cover-up.

He was so screwed.

"How you doing, Rodney?" John was looking over from his table. It looked like he had a full sketch ready to go.

"Horribly," he said as he flipped to another page to start again. Design number five.

"If I thought you'd accept it, I'd offer to look at your sketches and make suggestions."

"Just go and gloat in your little corner and leave me alone," he hissed, his pencil making hard and deep lines.

He heard a soft sigh. "If you change your mind, I'm willing to help."

Rodney glanced up, scowling. "Did I ask for your help? No. Do I need your help? No."

John shrugged. "I didn't say you did. I'm trying to be friendly."

"And you are as dense as you look. We've been through this already, more than once."

"I'm not trying to be your best friend, Rodney. I'm just being friendly since that's a more enjoyable way to pass the next few months."

"Just mind your own business," Rodney hissed, just as Tim walked into the room, clapping his hands to tell them their time was up. Great. Just great. Rodney slammed his book closed and stomped toward the door.

The ride to Mood was full of chatter as the other designers all talked about what they were looking for. John sat next to him again, but this time didn't say anything.

The ride over, staring out the rain splattered window—since when did it start raining?—gave him time to center himself again, his mind wandering as it considered the challenge. The rain drops on the window with light shining through sparked an idea and as soon as they arrived at Mood, he was out of the SUV and racing to find the fabric he'd seen in his mind.

They were all running around. With just 30 minutes and $100 to spend, it was chaos in Mood. Everyone was bumping into each other and shoving to try and get the perfect fabrics before anyone else did.

Rodney knew he shoved a few people and he vaguely realized he may have made the Asian girl cry but he found the fabric. It was blue and green with hints of yellow and white. It was just like sunlight on water. Perfect. He could do something flowy and drape it…yes…he could do something. The bathing suit was a little more difficult, but he managed to find some material that was perfect, a butter yellow that almost glowed.

He got his lengths cut, paying right as Tim called that their time was up.

The next few hours flew. He cut and draped and played with the material, hoping that he got a normal-shaped model. When they finally called them for the model casting, he was ready to move into something new, frustrated that his design wasn't working the way he'd envisioned it. And the fact that he couldn’t picture it on a model didn't help.

As they were filing out to go see the models, he took a look at what John had been working on. Professional curiosity got the better of him. The bathing suit was being created in a material that couldn't decide if it was blue or green, and instead of the skimpy bikini he would have thought to see, it was a one-piece with cut-outs on both sides. The cover-up was a flowing work-in-progress that had the vague impression of peacock feathers, with the different shades of blue and green shimmery fabrics John was piecing together. The bottom wasn't even straight, but looked like it would suggest feathers.

Rodney sniffed. Of course John would copy his color palette.

The room with the models was bursting with beautiful, skinny women. The producers were there, and each of them was given a basket to pull a number out of to determine the order they would choose.

When Rodney pulled out number sixteen, he groaned. Great. Just great. He'd be stuck with the one model no one else wanted. He stomped to the back of the room to stew, watching as everyone else shrieked with joy when they discovered their number.

John, of course, was near the front at number five.

Rodney sat back and scowled, trying to ignore the camera as it continued to pan back to him as he watched the model selections get underway. The model he wanted was gone early on, thankfully not to Sheppard. Of course he picked Rodney's number two choice. By the time Rodney's third choice was picked—by the dorky glass-wearing guy who would never stop talking—Rodney gave up trying to pick whom he wanted.

Finally, the last model standing came over to him. She was a tall blond when he would have preferred a brunette. She smiled as she glided up to him. "Hi. I'm Candice."

"Please tell me you don't go by Candy."

She made a face. "I will personally beat anyone who tries. Candice, please."

"Oh, thank god," he said, sagging in relief. "I'm Rodney McKay."

She flashed him a smile. "I'm looking forward to working with you."

Before Rodney could say anything more, Tim was ushering them back to the workroom where they could concentrate on their designs for the rest of the night. Their models would be back for a fitting tomorrow afternoon.

They all immediately got back to work, with some of the designers chatting as they took short breaks. It was in one of those when his other neighbor—Laura—smiled over at him. "Hey. Where are you from?"

"Canada. Why?"

She shrugged. "Making conversation." Then she laughed. "God, this has got to suck for you. Are there even any beaches in Canada?"

Rodney glanced up at her and scowled before letting out a sigh and shaking his head. "Not really. The East is all rocks and there are some beaches in Vancouver and you can use them for like two weeks the entire year. Lake beaches aren't right. Too brown and slimy."

She shook her head. "Maybe you'll get lucky and the next one will be a winter coat challenge. I like the direction you're going, though. The yellow and those blues are gorgeous together."

"Thanks," he said, offering a small smile. He glanced over at the red thing she was making. "So…going a little literal with the whole Baywatch thing aren't you?"

She grinned. "I grew up on that show. My mother was a huge fan, and taped every episode, re-watching them all week while she waited for the next one."

"Oh god. You're not going to drool over Hasselhoff, are you?"

"Only a little bit. Maybe his right toe or something."

"Try not to embarrass yourself on national television."

She laughed, and then grimaced. "Better get back to work. I've seen this show, and I do not want to be one of those people scrambling to finish sewing as the model is walking onto the runway."

"You know they don't actually give you enough time to make something," Rodney said, turning back to his own work. He'd been hand sewing the edge, trying to make sure it wouldn't roll or look bulky.

From his other side, he suddenly heard a frustrated huff. "Look, Chaya, you seem nice and all, but I really do need to concentrate on this."

Rodney glanced over, a little surprised to see how close one of the girls was to John. Had she been sitting on his workstation? "What's to concentrate on? You're just about finished," she said, batting her eyes.

"I still have a lot of detail work I want to do on this. Don't you have your own garment to work on?" John was trying to edge himself and his work away from her, consequently bringing him closer to Rodney.

"I'm taking a break. Didn't you see them bringing out dinner? Why don't you take a break with me and we can get some food," she said. At the first mention of dinner, Rodney was craning his neck, trying to see the break room. Yes. There were trays of food.

"You go on ahead. I'll go get something later." John looked over at Rodney, his expression a little desperate. "Besides, I told Rodney I'd eat with him, right, Rodney?"

"What?" Rodney asked, pulling his attention away from the food. "I'm eating now. Some of us have to watch their blood sugar levels."

"Right, but you said we'd eat together, right?" John gave him a pleading look.

"No. Why would I?" He put the garment down on his workstation and headed toward the break room.

As he walked away, he heard Laura jumping in. "Chaya, leave the poor man alone and go be a bitch to someone else."

Rodney loaded up his plate with food and grabbed a water bottle, sitting at a table in the corner, away from the other contestants taking time for dinner. As he ate he tried to ignore the eyes he felt drilling into his back from the two freaky brothers who were in his room.

They approached him when he was about half-way through with his meal. He had yet to see one of them—Bob he thought—actually speak. It was Steve as usual who seemed to be the only one born with vocal cords. "You'll be going home this week. That thing you're making is crap."

"So's yours," he said, rolling his eyes. "Who wears leather to the beach?"

"We are far more forward thinking than anyone else here. And we don't like you or your designs."

"Feeling's mutual so you can move along and stop breathing my air."

Steve leaned in so he was right in Rodney's face. "You'll be going home. One way or another."

Rodney backed off, shoving his chair away in an effort to get away from the toxic odor coming from Steve's mouth. "Oh my god! When was the last time you brushed your teeth? When you were three?"

With a disdainful sniff, Steve narrowed his eyes. "Watch your back, McKay. We're coming for you." He glared again before they both headed back into the workroom.

He shook off the chill from the man's words, his appetite now long gone. Great, just great. He dumped the rest of his dinner into the trash and headed back into the workroom. He still had a few hours left to work.

He wasn't back to work long before Tim Gunn wandered in. "Hello, designers. I'm here to take a look at what you're up to."

Rodney glanced up, watching as Tim headed to the far end of the room, the camera crew following him. He had some time. He turned back to his mannequin, pinning and adjusting the two-piece bathing suit he was working on. The cover-up was half done on the adjacent mannequin.

When Tim finally got to him, he smiled. "Rodney, tell me what you're doing here," he said, examining the pieces, one hand on his chin.

"Making clothes," he said. What else did it look like he was doing?

Tim waved a hand at it. "What was your inspiration?"

"The sun on the water." He shrugged. "It was all I had."

Tim walked around it, examining it from all angles. "What are your plans for this," he asked, pointing at the back of the cover-up, which was still looking rough.

"I haven't gotten that far yet."

Tim nodded. "You'll need to pull this together and make it work. Right now, I'm just not seeing where you're going with it."

"Yeah, well, some of us have to make it up as we go since beaches and oceans are close to being an alien world for some of us."

Tim chuckled. "You are at something of a disadvantage here, but I have faith in you, Rodney. Make it work." With that, Tim was gliding on to the next person.

"Make it work, my ass," he muttered to himself as he tried not to listen to Tim while he talked to John.

He couldn't help but hear John telling Tim that his inspiration was the peacock and the colors in their feathers. He apparently wanted to evoke that feeling of beauty and light that he equated with the birds.

"He's bird-brained if he thinks that design is going to fly," he muttered, pinning fabric in place.

When Tim finished, he went back to the front of the room. "All right designers, you have three more hours tonight to work, and two hours tomorrow morning. Good luck."

"Great, just great," he muttered. He had so much work to do.

The next three hours flew by, with everyone pretty much hunkering down to work. The room was quiet, so when one of the producers came in and gave the fifteen-minute warning so they could clean up, it took Rodney by surprise.

"What? It can't be!"

The other fifteen designers were expressing the same sentiments as cries of "no!" and "not yet!" rang out around the room. But the producers were adamant. The lights were turning in fifteen minutes.

This was going to be a disaster, Rodney thought as he frantically tried to finish the one hem he was working on. It was the third time he'd tried to finish it and it was only going marginally better than the first two times.

Finally, they were all being ushered out the door. At least he wasn't the only one looking dismayed. It meant he still had a fighting chance, at least. As they were all heading toward the van, one of the girls—another blond, this one with a pixie cut—fell into step beside him. "So you're Rodney McKay, eh?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to place her. She seemed…familiar. He let his eyes stray, dropping down to her pretty impressive rack.

"Sam Carter," she said sharply, his gaze quickly rising to her narrowed eyes.

"Mmm…yes, I'm Rodney McKay," he said, letting his eyes briefly wander down again.

Her expression got faintly hostile. "Right, I think I'm glad now I've never met you in person."

"What that's that supposed to mean? You dress them up but you don't want people to admire them?"

She rolled her eyes. "Nevermind. You're more arrogant than even I thought you would be. With luck, you'll be gone soon so I don't have to deal with you long."

"What? What is that supposed to mean? And how the hell do you know me?"

"We've only been trying to one-up each other for the past two years of school."

Rodney paused, looking at her as he tried to figure out what she was talking about. "Okay…which school? I've been to several."

"All of them." She rolled her eyes again.

"What! I have been to a lot of schools. I have several degrees, I'll have you know."

"No shit, Sherlock." Her expression was disdainful.

He scowled. "Look, I know I'm a highly desirable individual—with my looks and brains, you know—but you have to give me a little bit more to go on."

"You know what, never mind. I think I prefer you not having a clue. It will make it all the sweeter when I kick your ass and win this competition, proving once and for all I'm the better designer between us."

He snorted. "As if. If I don't know you, that means you are a pale imitation of my talent."

"Whatever. You know me, you're just too busy ogling to realize it. Get real. I wouldn't date you if you were the last man on Earth."

"I'm sure I can change your mind," he said with a leer. "And if you didn't want the attention you shouldn't…" He waved his hands at her breasts. "You shouldn't draw undue attention to them."

"It's called fashion, McKay. Maybe you should read up on it some time." She sniffed, and then went to get into another van.

He rolled his eyes as he climbed into the next SUV, a dark-haired woman sliding in next to him.

She smiled at him. "Hi, there. I don't think I've formally introduced myself to you yet. I'm Elizabeth Weir."

"Rodney McKay," he said absently, his eyes wandering down and back up again. He couldn't help it and he wasn't impressed. The blonde's were more impressive.

She either didn't notice, or pretended not to. "I heard you talking to Sam. Did you go to the same set of schools she did?"

He shrugged. "Apparently. She looks familiar, but I'm not that great with faces and names. Where are you from?"

"Washington DC. My family owns a shop there, and it's successful, but I don't want to just continue the line. I'm hoping this show will give me the connections I need to launch a brand of my own, without my family's influence."

"Oh," he said, letting the word fill in the silence. He knew he should say more, but honestly, he really didn't care what she did or where she lived or what she wanted.

Again, she either didn't notice, or was too polite to let it show that she did. He wasn't sure which. "This is a hard challenge, don't you think? I have no idea how I'm going to finish in time for the runway. How is yours coming along?"

"It's fine."

She smiled. "I can't wait to see what everyone comes up with, and hear what the judges have to say."

She chattered on the entire ride back to the apartment, only stopping when Rodney walked into the guys' apartment—and that was mainly because he walked away from her.

Some of the guys immediately went to their beds—John being one of them—while a few others crashed on the couch to unwind for a bit.

It was the small one with the accent that intrigued him. The wild hair gave him a whole absentminded professor—or crazed scientist—look. Rodney grabbed a beer and dropped into the nearest chair.

"So, you're not from here are you?"

The guy shook his head. "I am from the Czech Republic. And you?"

"Canada," he said, lifting the Molson he had in his hand. "A requirement for my attendance. Beer that doesn't taste like piss."

The other man nodded and rolled his eyes. "These Americans, they do not know what real beer is."

"Or alcohol. They think a stupid pirate character is all they need to make their swill taste better."

The man chuckled. "This is very true. Now real men would drink Russian Vodka. That will put hair on any chest." He held out his free hand. "Radek Zelenka."

"Rodney McKay," he said shaking his hand. "After a year in Russia, everything they have here is like water."

Radek grinned. "It is made that way to separate real men from pansies."

Rodney was surprised into a laugh. He took another pull of his beer and let his head lean back against the chair. "This is still very surreal."

"Oh yes. I still cannot believe I am here. I keep expecting to wake up from dream to find I am still in dark and cold room."

Rodney sighed, nodding. "At least this is saving me from a horribly painful family reunion."

Radek laughed, which then turned into a yawn. "Nothing like a television show to give you a good excuse. And I believe I will have to find my bed soon. It has been a very long day, and I believe tomorrow will be long as well."

"Yeah. The first runway show. God, I'm never going to finish in time."

Radek nodded. "I think we will all be sending garments that are less than our standards down the runway tomorrow. The key will be to make it look as if they are not half-finished."

"I won't send something down the runway incomplete. I…can't."

Radek chuckled. "Then I believe it is time for us both to be sleeping, so we will be well-rested for tomorrow."

"Yeah, I guess," Rodney said, draining the rest of his beer with one long gulp. He rose a little unsteadily to his feet, dumping the bottle into the recycling bin. "Night."

"Good night, and good luck tomorrow."

"Yeah, you, too," he said, pausing to watch the other man quietly pad into the second bedroom. Rodney sighed as he turned into his own, grumbling under his breath when he found all three of his roommates still awake. They were reading or listening to music or something, but all the lights were bright and rather painful.

He considered asking if they minded if he turn them down, but considering two of them were issuing threats toward him, and the other was more arrogant than even he was, he decided a pillow over his face was probably the best option.

If they didn't try to smoother him with it, that is.

Fortunately, by the time he had changed and was ready to give it a shot, Calvin had decided it was time for him to get his beauty rest, and was arbitrarily shutting off all the lights.

Thank god.

By the time morning rolled around, Rodney was groggy and wired at the same time, downing three cups of coffee even before they left for Parsons.

Before they were allowed to go back to work, they all had to take a turn in the confessional, talking about whatever they felt like for five minutes each. Once that was done, the producers opened up the workroom again.

Rodney immediately got to work, knowing his model was due to arrive for the final fitting within the hour. He still had a ton of work to do.

He heard Tim come in and tell them he was sending in their models for fittings, and then they would go in one at a time to consult with the hair and make-up department on what needed to be done to complete the look for the runway.

There was just not enough time.

His model showed up, nearly smothering him in a hug as she gushed about the bathing suit and cover up.

"This looks amazing! I can't wait to wear it!" She grinned. "Before we head to hair and makeup, is there anything in particular you want me to try and convey when I walk down the runway?"

"Ah…" He looked up at her, panicking a little. "Just…it's beachwear. I don't know. Just don't embarrass me."

She grinned. "No worries. I've done this before."

"Well, I certainly hope so," he said with a defensive sniffle. He followed her down to the Garnier hair salon to get her hair and make-up finished. He wanted something fresh, light and sun-kissed. Thankfully, the stylist wasn't stupid.

Once he had told them what he wanted, he had a little time to head back to the workroom to finish the last of the sewing.

Before he knew it, Candice was back—looking beautiful—and she was shimmying into his bathing suit. He pulled and tugged a few places, making sure it was laying perfectly flat. The cover-up he gave her next, helping her put it on. It was fitting, with seemingly hundreds of darts which curved into her figure, but the sleeves and bottom floated away from her body perfectly. Yes.

She admired the way it moved. "This is amazing. I'd totally buy this if I saw it in a store."

He flushed, ducking his head as he saw a stray thread. He quickly checked it to make sure nothing was loose before cutting it off. "Okay…shoes. I'm giving you these gold gladiator stilettos. Can you walk in them without killing yourself?"

"Of course." She grinned. "Those go perfect with this bathing suit. Nice choice."

"Of course it's a nice choice," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he helped her into her shoes. "I'm a designer. Of course I have good taste." He thrust an oversized pair of tortoise shell sunglasses with gold accents at her. "Wear these, too. You can push them up onto your head when you walk, too. And don't forget to show the suit when you reach the end." He tugged on the strap keeping the cover-up closed.

She laughed again. "Don't worry. I'll make you look fantastic up there."

"You better," he said just as Tim walked in, calling them down to the runway. God, this was nerve wracking.

All the models and designers filed out, and he finally took some time to look around at what everyone else had created.

It was like a train wreck if you asked him.

When they arrived, they all took their places in the seats opposite the judges on the runway, and Heidi walked out.

"Hello, designers," she said, flashing a smile at them. "Welcome to your first runway show. Let me introduce you to the judges today."

She turned slightly, and named them in order. "We have Fashion Designer Michael Kors, Editor-at-Large for Elle Magazine Nina Garcia, and Television actor and designer David Hasselhoff."

She turned back to them and Rodney had to force his eyes up off of her really, really long legs. It wouldn't be good to be caught on national television staring at Heidi's legs and ass. Yeah. He so needed to get laid. He tuned back in to her spiel.

"…one of you will be the winner and one of you will be out. Let's start the show."

None of them knew what order their models would come out in. Rodney wasn't sure what to think of the first design to hit the runway. It was done in all neon colors that had been pieced together over the model's body. The cover-up was solid black and looked like almost an afterthought.

Like he thought…train wreck.

The next one down the runway was fire-engine red—the blonde chick next to him—and way too reminiscent of Baywatch.

After that... that had to be John's. Despite himself, Rodney was impressed. He had actually managed to execute his vision, without making it look too costumey.

The next two had to be from the Wraith brothers. All black and leather and…like really bad porn costumes.

Finally, his model came out. Candice worked it, strutting down the runway, putting her sunglasses up on her head as she came down. When she got to the end, she paused, showing it off, and then slipped the cover-up off so the judges could see all of the bathing suit before she headed back.

He nodded to himself, seeing a few seams that needed to be straighter, flatter. He was doomed.

The rest of the show passed in a blur of semi-bad taste. When it was over, all the designers followed the producers off-stage. They were each brought in and asked to comment on the show and their work before they went out to hear what the judges had to say about it.

He said what he thought. It was like watching a train wreck, but his piece and one or two others were passable. They all walked back out, lining up on the runway. Then Heidi started calling names.

Sam Carter.

John Sheppard.

Laura Cadman.

Radek Zelenka.

He was a little surprised when his name is next and he stepped forward, barely listening to the rest of the list.

Heidi looked at them. "If I have not called your name, you can leave the runway. Congratulations, you've done enough to move on to the next round."

There's a soft exclamation of surprise from the people standing behind them and Rodney's nerves and panic ratchet up a notch.

Once half of them were left on the stage, Heidi called two more names. The designs were good enough to get them through to the next round and two more safe contestants were allowed to leave the stage.

Once they were gone, the producers had the six of them space out more evenly. Once that was done, Heidi started talking again. "You represent the best, and the worst of this week's show. One of you will be named the winner, and one of you will be going home."

Their models appeared a moment later, strutting out onto the runway, standing next to them. Candice reached down and grabbed his hand and squeezed it. Rodney wondered if she cared—or even noticed—how sweaty his palm was.

Heidi started at the far end of the line, making her way down. From the sound of it, Miko was in the bottom. Rodney's wasn't sure about Laura. It was good and bad. That left Rodney, John, and the Wraith brothers. John, who was standing next to Rodney again, was up next. He smiled when Heidi asked him to explain his inspiration.

"Well, when I think about the beach, usually you see a lot of the same kinds of clothes. I wanted to do something different, and create something that would make the woman wearing it the talk of the beach. I was inspired by the colors in the peacock, and wanted to suggest feathers with the way the hem of my cover-up flows."

"I could see that," Nina said, nodding. "As soon as she started down the runway, I knew where your inspiration was coming from. Good job."

John beamed, glancing over at Rodney long enough to bathe him in the surprisingly warm smile. "Thank you."

"I liked it, too," the Hoff said, shifting in his chair. "Although, the last thing I want to see at the beach are sea gulls. They're annoying as anything."

Nina and Michael Kors gave similar reviews, and then Heidi was asking Rodney the inspiration question.

"I guess you could say it was how sunlight looked when it is shining on the water. I wanted something light and…sunny, I guess."

Nina was the first to critique this time. "I really liked the way you balanced your colors. This had the potential to be a real eye-sore riot of color, but you did a fantastic job choosing and using the right shades here."

He blushed, offering a small smile. "Thanks."

Michael Kors nodded. "I agree, great job with the color choice, and the construction of the bathing suit was exquisite. Can we see the back again?"

Rodney nodded, helping Candice turn and take off the wrap.

They all nodded. Heidi smiled. "I like how you choose to hem the back. It's subtle, but very nice."

"The accessories are a nice touch, too," Nina said. "Good use of them."

They moved on to Steve Wraith next, but Rodney didn't pay attention, too busy basking in their praise of his bathing suit. However, when they got to Bob Wraith, everyone looked over in shock when it was Steve who answered, not Bob.

"He was envisioning—" Steve said, only to get cut off by Heidi.

"I'm sorry, but we asked Bob to answer us."

"Like I was saying," Steve continued with a glare toward Heidi, "Bob was trying to do more of an evening on the beach."

Heidi frowned. "Why isn't Bob speaking for himself?"

Steve actually looked confused. "This is how we communicate."

Michael Kors looked at them. "You always speak for your brother, and he never talks at all?"

"He talks to me," Steve said, glancing at his brother then to the judges again.

The judges just stared at them for a moment. It was Michael who finally shook his head. "Right. Okay."

Heidi shrugged. "Designers, you can leave the runway while we discuss your garments. We'll call you back in a bit."

They all wandered back to the small off-stage room, collapsing onto the couches and chairs to wait. This was going to kill him. He knew it.

John sat next to him. "Great job. You really did some amazing work on that outfit. I loved the stitching on the cover-up."

"Yes, well, that's what I do."

"You're good at it. I think you're going to be the winner of this one."

"Well, I deserve to be because, well…genius," he said, puffing up a little.

John chuckled. "I wonder how long it will take them to decide? You can never tell on television how long it actually takes."

"Hours probably," he said with a sigh. "They left food," he said, pointing across the room.

John blinked and grinned. "Awesome, I'm starving. Want anything?"

"No. I'll get it," he said, groaning as he climbed to his feet. "You'd probably poison me to get ahead."

John rolled his eyes. "Hardly. I keep asking what you're allergic to so I can avoid it. You're the one who won't tell me."

"I can fend for myself," he grumbled, grabbing a bag of chips and a water bottle.

"Well, duh, you're a grown man. Of course you can. Doesn't mean you can't let someone be nice to you once in a while."

"Why? It means I owe them something in return."

"No, it doesn't. That's what friends do. They help each other out without any expectation of a return, just because they want to."

"Of course it does. Tit for tat and all that." Rodney moved back to the couch, ignoring the glare from the Wraith brothers.

John followed him back to the couch, looking at him oddly. "Haven't you ever had a real friend who didn't want anything from you except to hang out?"

Rodney shrugged. "I guess, but things change. People change."

"True. But that doesn't mean you stop having friends."

"I didn't say I stopped having friends. And what does it matter to you anyway?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. I wish I knew why I feel the need to befriend you. I didn't come here with that intention and I should be focusing all my efforts on winning, but for some reason, I can't not try and be your friend."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Did you actually manage to smuggle in that weed you've been smoking or do you have a local dealer?"

For such a good-looking man, John had a ridiculous laugh. "I wish. Nope, I'm just like this naturally." He suddenly stiffened. "Shit, Chaya is headed this way. I'm going to see if I can ditch her by sitting in the men's room. See ya later!"

"Doubtful!" he said, eyeing John's skinny ass as he walked away.

The woman—Chaya—had a determined look on her face as she breezed past Rodney after John. He thought he would get a few minutes of peace, but then another of the women sat down next to him. "Hi. I'm Jennifer. Great outfit you put out today."

"Thanks, and who are you?"

She gave him a shy smile. "Jennifer Keller. I did the shorts instead of a cover-up like everyone else."

"Oh yeah, the mess of fabric that gave your model a wedgie. Good plan there."

Her expression fell a bit, then she seemed to rally. "Yeah, it wasn't my best effort, I know. I'll do better next time."

"Well, at least you have a next time."

She nodded earnestly. "I'm okay with being in the middle for now. I won a lot of awards when I was younger, but I've never done anything like this before. I know I'll get my feet under me."

"Younger?" Rodney sputtered. "You're what…twelve?"

She shook her head, ducking her face so her longish hair fell down to hide it. "I'm eighteen. I got a scholarship to Parsons when I was fifteen."

"Huh. You don't look that old."

"I know. I've always been the youngest in my group anyway, but it doesn't help that I look even younger than that."

"Twelve."

She gave him another shy smile. "How about you? Where did you go to school?"

"Everywhere."

"Wow, that must have been amazing."

"I have three degrees already and I still take classes. There's always something new to learn."

"Wow." Her eyes were wide and almost worshipful. He had a groupie.

He huffed, looking away, looking anywhere except at her. He just…needed this to be done already.

"All right, kid, time to let one of us old farts sit down." Laura dropped down onto the couch next to Rodney, forcing Jennifer over. "God, that sucked. I don't want to go home yet."

"Well, I did warn you about the red," Rodney said, rolling his eyes.

"I know, I know. I should have been more creative. I let my mother's hero-worship get the better of me."

"You were just short of drooling all over Hasselhoff, you know. You were like a really bad sci-fi groupie. Like you were trying to convince yourself that doing everything he did and going everywhere he went, but staying ten feet away meant you weren't stalking him."

She laughed. "Next time, no matter who the guest judge is, I promise not to do any drooling. Or snap secret pictures with my cell phone."

"You did not."

She grinned. "Wanna see them?"

"You do not have pictures!"

She pulled one of the newer slim cell phones out of her pocket and flipped it open. After a moment she turned it around for him to see.

"Oh my god! You did get pictures," he said, shifting closer to her. "Look at him in those tight pants."

"I know!" She grinned. "That man has one nice ass for his age."

"So does, Heidi."

She grinned. "True, although I don't look much at the women."

"Equal opportunity, Cadman," he said, leaning back with a smile. "That's what it's all about."

"More opportunities that way, I know, but I just can't bring myself to be attracted to other women. I tried for about a year in college, and decided it just wasn't going to work."

"Ahhh…just bi-curious, are you, eh?"

"I was. Now I'm back to obsessing over just men. It was kind of a waste of effort to try to add the women in, too, for me."

"You don't know what you're missing," he said, shaking his head.

She made a face and put her phone away. "I'm all for everyone going after whatever sparks their interest, but yeah. I just wasn't having fun when I tried to fool around with other girls. I kept looking for the penis."

Rodney looked at her and burst out laughing. "It's not a handle, you know. It's a very delicate and important part."

"Oh, yes, and one that is all kinds of fun to play with. Breasts just didn't have the same kind of draw."

"What do you mean? You can all sorts of things to breasts and nipples."

"But you just don't get the same reaction as you do when you do them to a penis. I can have men sobbing for release, but women, it was all very meh."

"Then you weren't doing it right," Rodney said with a smirk.

She laughed. "Thanks, but I'll stick to the parts I like. I haven't felt any loss, so I think I'm good."

"You don't know what you're missing, then," Rodney said, chuckling.

She ran a hand through her short hair. "Do you think it will be me who goes home today?"

Rodney shrugged, glancing toward the bathrooms where John had barricaded himself. Chaya was at the door talking at him through the wood. The rest of the contestants were scattered about the room, talking quietly in a few groups. "It was…really Baywatch."

"Yeah, but do you think it was worse than the neon horror, or the leather crap? I want your honest opinion."

"It was a train wreck."

She sighed. "I don't want to be the first one kicked off. That would seriously suck."

"Mmm, yes, but someone has to go."

"Gee, thanks." She made a face at him. "I think the waiting is worst of all. I just wish they would tell us already!"

"What? You wanted me to be honest and I'm not exactly known for my tact."

She chuckled. "I know. It's my own fault."

"Yes," Rodney nodded. "You should never ask questions if you don't want to know the answer—or in the alternative, don't already know the answer."

"Yeah, yeah." She shook her head.

Rodney took a pull of his water, wishing it was something a lot stronger. He didn't want to drink beer—as tempting as it was—because the last thing he needed to do was curse out the judges on national television because he was drunk. Yeah. That wasn't going to happen again.

He sighed, wishing the time would go a lot faster. Thirty minutes morphed into three hours and then they were finally getting called back in to appear before the judges.

This time it was just them, the top and bottom three. No models, nowhere to hide. It was more than a little intimidating.

Not that Rodney would hide behind his model. No. He wouldn't do that because he was usually much larger than his models. It was kind of like trying to hide behind a flagpole.

Heidi looked at all of them, smiling. "Laura, you have done enough to move on to the next round. Congratulations. You may leave the runway."

Rodney looked over and saw the great relief as she left the stage.

He sighed and tried to stop the panic that was starting to run through his mind like a small hamster on uppers.

Heidi looked back and forth between him and John. "Congratulations, Rodney. You are the winner of this challenge. You have immunity from being eliminated next week, and you will have a version of your design put up for sale on bluefly.com."

"I…what…" he whispered, his knees threatening to give out. "I…thank you."

Heidi smiled. "You may leave the runway."

"I….yes…yes," he nodded, trying to convince his feet to move. "Thank you."

John grinned over at him as he managed to shuffle offstage. A few minutes later, the man himself walked in and before Rodney could process, he was being hugged. "Congratulations!"

Laura came back out of the bathroom and shrieked, joining what was becoming a group hug, with him in the middle.

When he was finally released, they both grinned at him. "Great job, Rodney!"

It was really overwhelming to actually win the first challenge. He never believed he'd be able to. He had just assumed John would win—being from California and all.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. He had to do a confessional about how it felt to win, and it turned out the crier—Miko, he thought someone said her name was—was the one who went home.

They ended up on the roof deck again, once they got back to the apartment, drinking and celebrating making it through the first challenge. It was a perfect night—clear and cool—and this whole…thing was off to a great start.

***

They had a day of rest—which was good because a good portion of the contestants had gotten shit-faced the night before. John wasn’t one of them, and was up at his usual time to go for a jog. He was grateful the producers hadn’t given him a hard time about that.

He made the coffee—setting out the mug he had started leaving for Rodney every day as well—then went to sit by one of the windows where he could look over the city. It was peaceful, and a good chance to collect himself before the frenzy started again.

Instead of the competition, though, his thoughts drifted to Rodney. He wished he knew why the son of a bitch wouldn’t get out of his head. Lorne was interested and interesting, so why was John obsessing over the prickly guy who’d throw him under a bus in a heartbeat given half a chance? It wasn’t even like Rodney was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Granted, he had amazing eyes, but still…

John sighed to himself and sipped at his coffee, making what was probably the thousandth promise to himself, that he knew he would break that he would just ignore Rodney and focus on his own damn designs.

That was easier said than done, though.

About halfway through his second mug of coffee—the one he'd left for Rodney was gone, but there was no sign of the man yet—Lorne wandered out, sitting down across from him. "I am so glad I only had two beers last night."

John grinned. "I'm glad I only had one. It's going to be quiet for a while, then there will be a lot of bitching this afternoon, I'm sure."

"I think the Czech guy might be green. I'm not sure, though. He was groaning a little while ago."

Making a face, John shook his head. "I'm just going to stay right here in my quiet little sunny corner and try not to listen to any of it. They're just lucky I'm not a sadistic bastard who makes eggs for breakfast."

"I actually want an omelet," Lorne said with a smirk on his face. "Interested?"

"You are an evil bastard." John grinned. "But yes, I do believe I do. Thank you."

Lorne chuckled as he climbed to his feet, his worn jeans showing glimpses of skin. John blinked and looked again. That one hole was a little high up on the right side and there should be fabric, but there was just skin. Holy hell. He went commando.

Certain parts of John's anatomy stirred. They had the whole day, and most of the rest of the contestants would probably be less than observant...

John watched him move around the kitchen, his movements easy and graceful. Less than two minutes after the first omelet started cooking Kavanagh erupted from the other bedroom, Rodney's mug in his hand. "Are you trying to kill us?!"

John scowled. He hadn't left that coffee for Kavanagh. "What are you talking about?"

"The horrible odor!"

"It's called breakfast." John hadn't liked this guy from the start, but stealing Rodney's coffee just made him want to irritate the man further.

"It's called cruel and unusual torture."

"We're not asking you to eat it. In fact, I don't believe we even offered to share it with you. So go back to bed, or go puke up your beer from last night, or whatever it was you were planning to do this morning."

"Some of us knew better than to imbibe last night," he said haughtily. "And you might want to get your friend out of our bathroom. Some of us need to shower."

"I guess you'll just have to wait then, since it's already taken. He has as much right to it as you do."

"He's been in it all night."

John blinked. "Fine. I'll go check on him."

The Wraith brothers were still dead to the world, huddled under the covers. The two other beds were empty, one was completely made up with military precision, and the other—in the middle of the Wraith brothers—looked like a tornado had hit it.

John moved to the bathroom door, thinking he was already breaking his promise to himself as concern spiked. He gently knocked on the door. "Rodney?"

He waited a few moments before knocking again, with no response.

He tried the doorknob, and finding it unlocked, pushed the door open slowly. "Rodney? You okay?"

The odor hit him first—that sick smell you always associated with hangovers and really bad stomach viruses. Rodney was lying on the floor next to the toilet, pale and sweaty.

"Shit." He knelt down next to the other man. "Hey, buddy. You look like death."

"Kill me, please," he whispered.

John got a washcloth and wet it down with cool water. Sitting on the floor, he wiped what he could reach of Rodney's face. "You don't really want that."

"Please."

"Why don't we get you up and into your bed? You'll be a lot more comfortable than you are here on the floor."

"Closer."

"Your stomach still giving you problems?"

Rodney groaned and nodded, his hands pressing down on his stomach.

Grimacing, John looked around. "How about a quick shower? The hot water might help."

"Just kill me," he groaned, shifting his head so his forehead was pressed against the cold tile.

John rinsed out the washcloth then sat back down to wipe Rodney's face for him again. "Since there are cameras here, I wouldn't be able to get away with it. Sorry."

"Great, just great. My sister will kill me instead."

"Nah. You won yesterday! You're the top designer for week one. She'll be proud of you."

"Hey, what's going on in here?" Lorne asked as he swept into the room bringing with him the smells of breakfast. Before John could reply, Rodney was already gagging and dry heaving, trying to push himself back up.

Helping him get to the toilet without getting puke everywhere, John grimaced again, and then looked over at Lorne. "Apparently he doesn't handle alcohol very well."

"Huh. Guess not," Lorne said, two other faces peering into the bathroom—Kavanagh and Jackson—behind him.

"Can you see if any of the producers have anything for nausea? Otherwise, he and probably a few others are going to have a pretty miserable day."

"I'll go look!" Jackson said—way too damn cheerful—as he scampered out of the room.

"Hey, Rodney, you want to try some black coffee? That always helps when I have a hangover..."

Rodney shook his head, his body finally stopping its dry heaves. He had apparently thrown everything in his stomach up already—which was good.

"Anyone else have any ideas?" John looked at Lorne. Kavanagh, fortunately, had gone green when Rodney started heaving and disappeared.

"If he's done, maybe we can get him back into bed. We can find some ginger ale or cola or something. Some Advil."

John nodded. "I don't think he has anything left in his stomach, and bed would be a lot better. We can find a bucket or something for him, for just in case."

"Someone should keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't pass out and choke on his vomit—you know, if he's not done," Lorne said.

"He is right here, you know," Rodney whispered.

John looked down. "We know. We're just trying to figure out what will work best without bothering you with the specifics. You seem a little preoccupied right now."

"Trying not to die."

John stood up, and between he and Lorne, they got Rodney out of the bathroom and into his bed. John returned to get the washcloth damp and cool again, and then put it across Rodney's eyes.

Jackson wandered in, his arms full of bottles and other stuff. "I got a few things that might work," he said, dumping them at the foot of the bed. "Ginger ale, some cola, some other herbs that are known to work in some remote South American cultures—really very good stuff—and some painkillers, both over the counter and some that are not so much…"

John blinked at the stuff. "Why don't we try the ginger ale and Advil first, before we go into the more exotic stuff..."

"Are you sure? Some of the Egyptian cures for nausea go back thousands of years."

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure." John eyed the stuff. "We'll save that for if the Advil doesn't work."

"I'll just set up some incense over here, then," he said, moving to the bedside table. "It'll help with the headache and the unsettled nature of his being. I got it from Chaya. Do you know she's a wealth of information?"

John winced. "I'll take your word for it. I just hope she didn't decide to poison us all while she had the chance."

"Oh, why?" he asked, his blue eyes open wide behind his glasses. "Do you think she would? She's nice."

"To be honest, I don't really trust her. Something about her just turns me off, big time."

"Huh," Jackson said with a shrug, going back to what he was doing. "I don't get that from her."

"You're more than welcome to her, then. Maybe you can get her to stop chasing me all around the workroom and go focus on her own designs."

A few minutes later and the incense thing was set up and burning happily. Jackson meandered back into the main living room.

Shaking his head, John perched on the edge of Rodney's bed. He had made sure the other man took the Advil and a few sips of ginger ale before lying back down with the washcloth. "Feeling any better now?"

"In addition to miserable, I'm now mortified."

"Don't be. We're only trying to help."

Rodney raised his head, lifting the corner of the washcloth off his eyes so he could look at John. Dark circles littered the skin under his bloodshot eyes. "Why are you being so nice?"

Shrugging, John toyed with all the stuff Jackson had brought in and left on the table. "I don't know. I keep telling myself I'm going to stop trying to be friends with you since it's obvious you're not interested, but then I find I can't help myself."

"Is Radek still alive? I think he won the drinking under the table thing."

"We heard him groaning earlier, but I haven't checked on him yet."

"You should."

"Okay. Will you be all right?"

Rodney shrugged. "Not going anywhere."

Nodding, John headed out to check on Radek, who was only marginally better off. He went through the same routine, with Jackson setting up the incense and getting ginger ale and Advil into the wild Czech. He did pause, at one point, to wonder how he'd become the official house mom.

By the time he wandered back out, Lorne had cooked up breakfast for everyone else—pancakes and eggs mainly—leaving a covered plate for John. "Food's up," he said, pointing. "Need anything else?"

John snagged his plate and found a spot to lean while he dug in. "You are a god. Thank you."

"Mmm. That sounds weird in the middle of a kitchen. I'm used to hearing that whispered breathlessly." Lorne winked at him before moving to put the pans in the sink.

John suddenly remembered what he had noticed earlier. He wiggled his eyebrows. "Play your cards right..."

"What are your plans for the day? Jackson, Chaya, and Sha're are headed to the Park."

"I'm surprised Vala's not going along to sniff up Jackson's ass." John rolled his eyes. "She's as bad as Chaya is."

"Oh yeah. Her, too. Seems like Jackson has his own little harem going on."

"He's welcome to them." John shook his head. "I think I'll pass on that little trip. What about you?"

"I'm sure we can find something else to do," Lorne said, turning on the faucet as he started washing the dishes.

John hummed a little under his breath. "You know, I bet we could."

Lorne flashed him a smile before turning back to the dishes.

"Have you ever done the tourist thing here? I've never seen any of it."

"Some. My kid sister lived out here for a year or two. Visited her once, but I'm always game for some exploring."

"Why don't we do that, then? Get a map of the city, and pick something neither of us has seen?"

"Finish up your breakfast and I'll see what I can find," Lorne said, putting the last pan on the dish rack to dry.

Mmmm, this was going to be a good day. And maybe it would get Rodney out of his head once and for all.

Lorne headed into their bedroom as the rest of the apartment swirled around him. Cadman, Elizabeth, and Jennifer wandered in at some point and started fluttering around Rodney and Radek, fluffing pillows, making tea and toast.

John was surprised to find he was a little bummed that his house-mom duties had been taken. Then he was disgusted with himself for it. He was here to compete and have fun. Nothing more.

With that in mind, he went to put on his sneakers and a jacket to go out for a day in the city.

Lorne managed to get a good city map from somewhere and they headed out, touring and enjoying the sites. They stuffed themselves with street vendor food and found some amazing desserts in Little Italy.

They even made out a little, here and there. It was a promising start to what could be a great way for both of them to relieve stress on this wild ride.

And what was even better was the fact that no cameras followed them all day long. It was really…refreshing to get that day to themselves.

While they were snacking on pretzels, John looked around at the crowd flowing past them. "You know what's weird. Once this airs, we probably won't be able to just walk around on the street as regular Joe's."

"Maybe, maybe not. Depends on how far we go."

"True. I'm going to be optimistic and say we go all the way." John grinned.

"That sounds like a good plan," Lorne said, looking at him in a way that there was no question as to what he wanted.

John's libido jumped, and he returned the heated look.

Lorne shifted closer, moving deliberately into John's personal space. "So, what do you say?"

"I think we need to explore that... alliance... more thoroughly."

"Where do you propose we go? I'm sure we can find a hotel or something for a little while."

"You know, I think that's a perfect idea." John licked his lips. "You said you know the city? Any good ideas of where to go?"

"My sister would know. I can call her."

"Why don't you?" John looked Lorne up and down. He was itching to get his hands on that body and see if it was as beautiful without clothes as it was with them.

"Let's walk back to the park we passed. I'll call her from there."

John nodded, and they started walking, much closer together this time than before.

They found a secluded spot in the park and Lorne pulled out a cell phone, scrolling through the address book.

Looking around to make sure they were alone. John casually let his fingers skim the hole in Lorne's shorts.

"Mmm," he hummed, shifting to press more of his ass into John's hand. He picked a number and dialed, putting the phone up to his ear. Taking that as an invitation, John let his fingers slide in where he could caress skin.

"Yeah," Lorne whispered, before raising his voice as someone obviously picked up the phone.

John grinned and worked his way toward more sensitive areas as much as the hole would allow. He was enjoying watching Lorne try to sound normal.

By the time he hung up with his sister—she was texting him a few cheap hotels in the area—John could see just how turned on Lorne was, how his jeans tented out in the front. "Killing me," he groaned as he pocketed the phone, turning to face John.

"That was the plan." Grinning, John took advantage of the new angle to get a better grip on Lorne.

"Well, I have some other ideas on what we can do," he said, pressing up against John, making them both groan at the sensation. Oh yeah, this was going to be a lot of fun.

Lorne cell beeped again, and they both looked at it eagerly.

"That had better be my sister."

When he answered it, though, John got a sinking feeling it wasn't.

"What do you mean…" he said, his face showing its confusion. "I thought we had the day to ourselves. We don't have to be on set until the morning."

John's face fell. That was never good.

Lorne sighed. "So…we have what, fifteen minutes to get back? We're across town. It's going to take longer than that."

John straightened and started looking around to make sure they hadn't dropped anything. They could probably get a cab if they needed to. He wondered what was going on.

"You know, someone should have mentioned it before we left the apartment."

Lorne argued with whoever it was—it sounded like a producer—for another few minutes until he hung up. John waited to find out the whole story.

"We have a dinner thing tonight."

John made a face. "Funny how no one thought to tell any of us about it."

"Apparently, it was on the board and we should have all seen it," Lorne grumbled, shoving the cell in his pocket. "And I want to know how they got my number."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they looked all that up before we signed the contracts." John sighed as they started looking for a cab to hail.

"I smuggled it in. It's not like they wanted us to keep them."

"I know. They took mine. I still want to know how Rodney kept his, but he won't say."

"I packed mine and refused to give it to them," Lorne said, stomping a few feet away to look down the cross street.

John came up behind him and settled his hands loosely at Lorne's waist. "Hang on to that text. Next time, we'll just skip the sight-seeing part of the day..."

"They just…" He sighed. "Sorry. I don't appreciate having my life interrupted like that."

"Me neither. I'm annoyed and frustrated as hell. But if we go back pissy, that will be on camera, and I don't think either of us wants that."

"This isn't for the cameras," Lorne growled, flagging down a cab. "This is just with the producers."

John sighed. "I wonder what they're up to." He hopped in next to Lorne, and gave the cabbie the address.

"I don't know and they weren't very forthcoming on the phone," Lorne said, staying on his side of the cab, his body stiff and tense.

John sighed. So much for getting laid today. He hoped no one was in trouble. They hadn't been told they couldn't leave the apartment on non-shooting days. Just that they couldn't talk about the show or who won or lost which challenges.

It took twenty minutes to get back to the apartment and John was happy to arrive since Lorne was tense and silent the rest of the ride back.

Well this was a sucky end to what had been a promising afternoon. They both went upstairs to the apartment, and John hoped they'd get more information about what the hell was going on.

Instead, what they found was Rodney on the couch in the living room, propped up with pillows and surround by incense and candles and various bottles of Gatorade and water.

Blinking, John headed over. "Hey, you look a little better than you did before."

"Well, I'm not dead—yet," he said, grumbling as he shifting on the couch. "Why are you here?"

"The producers called and said we had to get back here ASAP. Apparently there's some sort of dinner or something?"

"Yeah, in the restaurant downstairs," he said with a face. "You get to have the riot act read to you. I got a private version since I'm still not holding down much."

"Why are we getting the riot act read to us? No one told us we weren't allowed to leave the building."

"Apparently, it's in the fine print. They were going to have a special challenge starting tonight but most of the contestants weren't here and the few of us who were are in no shape to actually do anything. They weren't happy."

John rolled his eyes. "If they didn't want us leaving, they shouldn't tell us we've got a free day to ourselves, at least not without being more specific that we're not to leave the building."

"Yeah, try telling them that," Rodney huffed. "You should probably go down before they send up the goons for you."

With another sigh, John ran his hands through his hair and looked around for Lorne.

"He…ahh, headed into the bedroom."

"Thanks. I'd better go grab him. If there are two of us arriving at the same time, they can't single us out."

Rodney snorted. "Maybe."

John wandered back into their room. "Hey, apparently we're wanted down at the restaurant in the building to get yelled at and have dinner."

The room was empty, but the door to the bathroom was halfway open.

Moving over, John poked his head in. "Lorne?"

He really wasn't expecting to see the man leaning against the wall, jacking himself off with his pants around his knees.

"Holy shit..." John admired the lean lines of his body, and the competent way he was holding himself.

"John?" he asked, in a strangled voice, his hand pumping faster even as he glanced over his shoulder.

John leaned against the door so he could enjoy the show. "Mmmm."

Lorne came a few moments later, spilling over his hand as he collapsed a little harder against the wall.

"Very nice." John looked him up and down.

"Bastard," he panted.

"Hey, you could have told me this was what you were going to do. I would have lent a hand."

Lorne pushed himself away from the wall, managing to shuffle over to the sink. He cleaned up his hand and then used a washcloth to clean himself up, not shy about his body or even caring that John was watching him. He pulled up his pants and straightened everything out a few moments later. "You wanted something?"

"Well, I was coming to get you so we could head down to dinner, but now I'm having second thoughts."

"Well, then, let's go," Lorne said, moving past John.

"Now who's the bastard?" Grinning, and anticipating maybe a little play later, John followed him out.

"Takes one to know one."

John smiled at Rodney as they walked by. "Wish us luck."

"You need more than luck," he said, waving as they walked out. "And try to be quieter next time."

"Hey, I was only watching." John grinned at him.

"Sure you were, Mister Touchy Feely," Rodney quipped as they headed out the door.

Shaking his head, John followed Lorne back down. It didn't take them long to find the producers and get reamed out, as predicted. Fortunately, it seemed like everyone else had already been yelled at, so they were losing steam, and it didn't last too long.

Dinner went well after that, everyone falling into good conversations. Radek still looked a little worse for wear, honestly, pale and pained, but he was chatting with everyone.

This time, it was an early night for everyone. John didn't even get another chance to flirt with Lorne, since there were only two seats left at opposite ends of the table, and then everyone just passed out.

The next day, John got in his jog and made the coffee, getting dressed carefully again. It was time for their second challenge, and he was hoping it would be something he could do as well on as the first.

Rodney stumbled out of the bedroom, not long after John returned from his run, dressed in jeans and what looked like hand-me-down layered t-shirts. He headed directly for the coffee pot not even looking up at what was around.

John watched to see if he would actually use the cup set out for him.

He walked right up to the coffee pot and pulled out a spoon and the sugar bowl, dumping in two spoonfuls of sugar into the mug John had left out. He moved to the fridge and pulled out the milk, dumping in some before adding the coffee right to the top. A quick swirl of the liquid—with it splashing over the edge—and he was leaning down to suck up some of coffee up.

Despite himself, John smiled. It was...cute, in a way.

As soon as there was enough play in the mug and Rodney was apparently sure the liquid wouldn't spill over and burn him, he picked it up and walked back into the bedroom.

John shook his head, and watched the rest of the apartment get moving. Finally, it was time to pile into the vans and head over to the runway where they would get their next challenge.

As soon as they settled into their seats, Heidi appeared on the stage. "Good morning, designers. Today you're going on a little field trip where you're going to meet Tim and he'll explain your next challenge. Have fun!"

John rolled his eyes as they all got up and filed back out. He wondered why they made them do this intermediate step. They got back in the vans and drove to an area with a lot of shops known for producing the Broadway costumes. He started to get a little excited.

They were brought into the lobby of one of the shops where costumes from all of the really famous Broadway plays were on display. Tim was there, along with another man—well-dressed in a suit.

"Good morning, designers!" Tim smiled at them as they arranged themselves in a line. "I'd like to introduce you to Harry Gaines, known in the industry for being the best of the best when it comes to costume design."

"Good morning and welcome to our little display area," he said, clapping his hands together once before gesturing around the room. "Here you can find many—if not all—of the famous characters' costumes from the last fifty years of Broadway plays. We create hundreds and thousands of costumes each and every year and they all need to be distinctive and memorable."

John looked around. He had heard of Harry Gaines before. The man had won numerous awards for Broadway show costumes, and he had done most of the designs for the costumes in almost all of the big shows on the Las Vegas strip. John was awe-struck.

"Designers, today you're going to have the opportunity to make your own impact on the Broadway scene. Your challenge is to create a costume for one of the currently running Broadway plays—something over the top and so memorable that people will be talking about it after the play," said Tim. "You'll have three hundred dollars to shop at Mood. Right now you have thirty minutes to sketch and then we'll be off to shop."

They were given space in Harry's workshop to sketch and be inspired, as well as a list of all the shows currently running. John spent the first few minutes walking around and taking in the design and feel of the different costumes, and how Harry had captured the essence of the characters he was outfitting. After thinking about it, and looking over the list, he decided to use Shrek: The Musical as his show. He loved the whimsy and fantastical elements it would allow him to play with.

God, this was going to be so much fun.

He got down to work, starting with a pair of pants and jacket. It was about breaking fairy-tale stereotypes, so John decided to make his character a very un-princessy princess. Instead of a dress, she would prefer more wearable clothes, and yet he would need to convey the same sense of royalty a gown would give off.

Rodney was sequestered in a corner, sketching away like mad—just like during the first challenge. He still looked pale, but at least he was upright and walking.

When Tim called time and they headed to Mood, John snagged the seat next to Rodney. "Hey, what show are you getting your inspiration from?"

"South Pacific," he said, rubbing his head. "I'm going with a new take on the Air Force pilot."

"Cool!" John grinned. "I decided to go with Shrek. I'm playing with some of the whimsy and fun of a princess who doesn't want to dress like a princess."

Rodney snorted. "Well, you certainly can use your own life experience as a muse."

John chuckled. "How are you feeling? You look like your head is still bothering you."

"The pain killers I took aren't helping. I might need more coffee."

"They'll have some in the workroom after we shop. You just have to hang in there a little longer."

"I am never going to play drinking games with that bastard Czech again. He tried to kill me."

John started to reply, but was cut short as they arrived at Mood and all piled out again. They stood in the entry way, and waited until Tim said the magic words.

John went straight for the velvets. They were more expensive, but he wanted to do his jacket out of them. He decided on several different colors, thinking maybe he could do a piece-meal design reminiscent of the old-fashioned fabrics they used to wear. He then got a sheet of faux leather to do some great pants, and a nice white muslin for the shirt. When Tim called time, he had just managed to get it all in, cut and paid for.

He got in the last SUV this time, sitting with the Wraith brothers, Elizabeth, and Radek. He looked about as good as Rodney did.

Grinning, John shook his head. "What possessed you to have drinking games in a competition where you knew you wouldn't have much time to recover?"

"Good night sleep is all that is needed. This time," he said, pushing his glasses up, "more time was required. Alcohol was…smoother, more dangerous."

"Still. I'd think you wouldn't want to do that in the first place." John shared a look with Elizabeth. They hadn't spent all that much time together, but she seemed nice.

"It is all fun," he said with a shrug.

He looked around at the others. "What shows are you guys doing?"

"I'm going to do Chicago. It was a favorite of mine growing up—and my second-favorite city," Elizabeth said with a smile. "There's just something so amazing about the power women had back then."

Radek nodded. "I considered that one as well. However, I choose to go with Phantom of the Opera. I like the drama and sweeping love story."

"I like that show, too. I've seen it so many times," Elizabeth said, her smile of memory turning into a frown. "But…there are too many bad memories associated with it now."

"Oh?" John tipped his head to the side.

She shook her head, her expression going soft and sad. "Long story."

He let the subject drop, and the car lapsed into silence. It didn't escape his notice that neither of the Wraith brothers had joined in, and were, in fact, glaring at all of them, probably for daring to breathe in their space.

He really didn't care. They'd be gone soon enough.

When they got back to Parsons, John set up his workstation, spreading out his fabrics and taking a little more time to look at what he got and envision how it would all come together.

This was a two-day challenge, so he had some time to plan, to really make this special. Their models would be in twice for fittings—later tonight and then again tomorrow night—before the runway show the following day.

He decided to start on the pants first. Leather pants were a cliché for a lot of reasons, and he needed to both find a way to embrace and thumb his nose at it, since that was the whole point of the show. He decided to do some intricate stitching along the bottoms of the legs and along the waistband in shades of thread that matched the coat he was going to make. It would tie it all together, and make the pants more than just a simple piece.

Rodney was a little disturbing next to him, muttering constantly under his breath. He was insulting the fabric, the needles, the design, the mannequin—everything.

The first few hours were fairly silent, as everyone worked to get the foundation for their outfits done. That was, in some ways, the most important part, since without it, nothing else would work right.

Surprisingly, it was Cadman who broke first, cursing and throwing things around when the drape she'd been working on for the past hour and a half just wouldn't work. "Stupid fucking fabric!"

They all looked up. John stretched. He needed a break anyway, so he wandered over. "What's wrong?"

"It won't…" she waved her hand forward the mannequin. "I can't be in the bottom again and it's not…it won't…"

"Take a deep breath." John looked at her fabrics. "What are you trying to accomplish?"

"I'm working on Mary Poppins. I'm trying to do one of the fantasy sequence gowns, but the fabric is too stiff and it's not draping. I got the wrong fucking fabric and I'm so screwed."

"Take a deep breath. You can make this work." John smiled, and studied the fabric. "What if, instead of the type of draping you're trying to do here, you tried something like this?" He adjusted what she had so it draped differently than her original idea—more of a horizontal drape than a vertical—but it worked with the fabric rather than against it.

"It won't work. It won't. I tried it already," she whined, stomping a few feet away.

"Hey, stop it with the drama. Some people are actually working in here," Rodney snapped.

John shrugged and smiled at Rodney. He couldn't force Laura to design his way, and it was a competition at the end of the day. "How's your piece coming?"

"Fine," Rodney said, tight-lipped and short.

Wow, this was going to be a tense couple of days. John took the hint and went back to his own station, stepping back to get a better look at what he had done so far, trying to decide if it was going the way he wanted it to or not.

"The pants are crooked."

He glanced over, startled. He hadn't thought anyone else was paying attention to him. "You think?"

"Look at it. Unless your model's hips are off by two inches…" Rodney said, glancing up from the garment he was stitching by hand.

John sighed. "You're right. I knew something didn't look right, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Damn it. I'm going to have to pull out all that stitching and start over."

"Just…you know…pointing it out before you got too far."

"I appreciate it. I'd rather do it now than later when I have all the intricate stuff done. Thanks."

"Yeah, well," Rodney offered a small shrug, turning back to his own workstation.

John got to work pulling out the stitches. It took him the better part of an hour, and then another hour to adjust the angle and get back to where he had been. By then, he was starving. "Anyone know if they've put out dinner yet?"

Someone slid up next to him: Chaya. "I'll have dinner with you, John."

He made a face, but kept it hidden from her. "I don't think I'm going to stop working, I'm just going to grab something and keep going. I'm further behind than I had planned to be at this point."

"There's always time for dinner and dessert," she said, giving him her bedroom come-hither look. She'd latched onto his arm and was dragging him forward.

He tried to resist, casting around for some kind of help. God, she needed to go home just so he didn't have to deal with her anymore.

Everyone else in the workroom had their heads down, intent on their designs.

Shit. He either had to be ungentlemanly which would have his mother screaming at him for years once she saw the show, or he had to let her drag him away.

"Come on, John," she purred. "Let's see what they have for dinner."

Once they were out of the workroom—although not away from the cameras—John decided to try to be more firm. Sort of. "Look, Chaya, I'm sure you're a very nice girl and all, but I'm not into girls. Nothing is ever going to happen between us because you don't, ah, have the right parts. I'm sorry."

But she ignored him, pulling him to the food table. "Look at all of this food, John. Doesn't it look fantastic?" She glanced up at him licking her lips. "I'm getting hungry just looking at it."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but just barely. "Yeah, it looks good. I'm going to get a plate and then get back to my station to get to work. I still have a lot to do tonight."

"Sit with me?" She blinked up at him, her eyes pleading silently.

"I really can't. I screwed up earlier, so I'm behind. I don't want to go home because I couldn't get my outfit done on time."

"There's plenty of time," she said. "Just for a few minutes. Please?"

He sighed. "Chaya, I'm really not interested in women. I'm sorry. You'd be better off focusing your efforts on someone you have a chance with."

"You don't mean that," she said, petting his arm, her other hand tightening on his other arm.

"I really do. I'm gay, Chaya. I sleep with men."

"And women. You were married. I read your bio."

"The operative word being was. I married her to try and make my family happy, and made us both miserable in the process. I can't be something I'm not."

"Please, John," she said, her eyes a little glassy. Oh god. She was going to cry. "I'm all alone here and you're nice to everyone else."

John rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We can be friends, you just have to understand it will never be anything more than that."

"All I'm asking for is for you to sit with me and eat dinner," she said, the tears starting down her face.

Fuck. He hated tears. "Fine. But only for a few minutes. I really do need to get back to work."

"Thank you! Oh, thank you!" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

He called himself all kinds of names as he disentangled himself and got a plate. He really didn't want to be doing this. His mind drifted to his outfit, and all the work that still needed to be done.

Chaya chatted at him for the next thirty minutes as they ate, her foot resting lightly on his leg under the table, rubbing gently.

He ignored it, and finally decided this was about as far as he was willing to go, once his plate was clean. "All right, time to go back to work."

"What about dessert?" she asked, her eyes open wide and pleading.

He shook his head. "I want to save that for later. I know I'll need something sweet to keep me going."

"But…"

"I need to get back to work." John was firm. He wasn't going to compromise his chances at winning this competition for her, no matter how hard she begged. "I've already spent more time away than I wanted to."

"Are you still in here?" Rodney asked as he stormed in, headed for the coffee pot. "Are you going to spend all night in here with the floozy?"

John hid a smile at Chaya's expression. "Just heading back out, actually. I really need to get back to work."

"Yeah, those pants are still a mess," Rodney said, fixing himself a mug of coffee.

"I know." John sighed. "God, I have so much work left to do. I'm going to head back out. See you on the floor."

It looked like Rodney had made some good progress on his garment while John was busy playing footsie with Chaya—who was now scowling and pouting at him.

He ignored her, and got back to work. By the time Amanda, his model, came for her first fitting, he at least had the shape of them done. There was still all the detail work, but she could at least try them on.

Thankfully the hips were even and they hit her in the right place. He started pinning the foundation for the top, making small adjustments that would translate into the finished garment.

"What do you think of the design?" He had given her the sketch to look at while he pinned.

"It's interesting."

He made a face. "That's never a good sign, when someone uses the word interesting. What don't you like about it?"

She shrugged. "It's just hard to picture how it's going to be."

He sighed. "I know. There's still so much left to do."

"You'll get it done." She flashed him a smile.

He chuckled. "I hope so! This week, I want to come in first place!"

"I'm sure you will," he said, giving him a light kiss on his cheek as he helped her out of the half-made garment.

He sighed, making a few notes about what needed to be done. "So I'll see you tomorrow morning for another fitting? Hopefully I'll have all the pieces mostly done by then, so we can get a better idea of whether this is going to work."

"I think we're coming in the afternoon," she said, pulling on her skinny jeans. He caught Rodney staring at her ass and the tiny thong she was displaying at him. John felt a little thrill of disappointment run through him. He had totally gotten a gay vibe off of Rodney, but it seemed he'd been wrong.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow, John," she said, giving him another kiss before she headed out with the rest of the models.

Shaking his head, he decided to day just wasn't his day. Rodney wasn't gay, his outfit was sucking, and Chaya wouldn't leave him alone.

The rest of the evening whooshed by and before he knew it the production assistants were ushering them out the door and turning off the lights. Back at the apartment, most of the contestants dropped immediately into bed, but Rodney and Radek ended up on the couch in the living room, arguing—kind of—about some kind of stitch or something.

John was exhausted but too wired to lie down just yet. He paced around the room, turning his outfit over and over in his mind. He had gotten the rough shape of his shirt done, but he hadn't even started on the jacket yet.

"You're making me dizzy," Rodney commented during one pass.

He stopped, blinking. "What?"

"You. Are. Making. Me. Dizzy," Rodney said, enunciating each word as he pointed his water bottle at John.

With a huff, John dropped down into a chair across from Rodney and Radek. "I'm not going to finish, and I'm going to get sent home."

"You will finish," Radek said, waving off his concern with a simple wave of his hand.

"I still haven't done any of the detail work, and haven't even started my jacket..." Panic began to settle in again, and John considered more pacing.

"Stop your bellyaching," Rodney said, rolling his eyes.

John scowled at him. "I only sat down because you were whining at me."

"We still have entire day to work and few hours next day. You will finish," Radek said. "Panic hour before runway show."

Running a hand through his hair, John nodded. "I know. I do, it's just... I'm so far behind from where I wanted to be because I fucked up the pants, and then Chaya guilted me into sitting with her for a fucking half-hour."

"Guilted? More like played footsie for an hour," Rodney said.

"She cried." John shuddered. "What the hell was I supposed to do? I don't like her, but I can't make her cry."

Rodney snorted while Radek chuckled. "You must learn to deal with women and tears."

"I'd rather not, thanks. I'll stick to men."

"Don't you mean anything breathing?" Rodney asked with a snide smile.

"Hardly." John shuddered. "I tried pretending I liked women for a while to make my parents happy, and I was miserable. No thanks. I won't be going down that road again."

"Gay men are woman's best friend," Radek said. "You must learn to deal with the tears."

"Not this gay man. I'll take women like Laura any day who punch things when they get upset. Just Say No to tears."

"Yes, well, then at least you must how to deal with it during contest, no? Go back to being gay snob after," Radek said, rising to his feet. "Have a good night."

Sighing, John waved. "Yeah, I guess. I'll just get kicked out of the damn competition because I'm too fucking polite to say no to a woman in tears."

"Would serve you right," Rodney commented, shifting on the couch, but not making a move to get up. "You have to have that whole…take no prisoners attitude."

John shrugged. "I want to win, just like everyone else. It would prove to my family that this is a real career, something I can make money doing, not to mention that it's something I plan to stick with."

"You don't act like you want to win."

"Of course I want to win. I just…I don't know. I like people. I like making friends."

"But this is a competition. You're not here to make friends. You're here to beat people and make them cry."

John shrugged. "I guess I'd rather win and be nice. I don't think they have to be mutually exclusive."

"It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, Sheppard. If you show weakness someone else will devour you. I learned that early on."

"I disagree. I've gotten to this same point you have, and I haven't approached it that way at all."

Rodney shrugged. "To each his own, I guess. You probably had it easy. Your type always does."

With an eye roll, John shook his head. "Hardly. I've been all but disowned by everyone in my family except my brother. What little I have, I've earned for myself."

"Yeah, right," Rodney said with a roll of his eyes as he rose to his feet. "Look, I'm not going to argue with you. I know what your type is all about and it doesn't impress me. Sure, you're easy on the eyes, but that doesn't make up for everything else."

"Whatever. You've decided I'm a 'type' for whatever reason. Fine." John stood up and headed for his bedroom, more than a little irritated.

"Too bad, too."

Glancing back over his shoulder, John shook his head. "You don't know anything about me. I feel sorry for you, that you live in such a bleak world that you have to make snap judgments based on so little facts."

"I live in the real world," Rodney said, dragging his eyes up to John's face from where they'd been looking at his ass. He straightened, tilting up his chin a little defiantly, as if he had to put on a brave face. "I know how things go, how they work."

"No, you don't." John shook his head. "You don't know me, and despite everything I've done to try and at least be friendly with you, you're determined to see me as some kind of monster. Fine. I'll stop trying, since that's what you seem to want."

"I can't have what I want," Rodney said, his voice a little broken, a little sad. "This," he said, pointing to himself, "is all I have. This is it. I need this win."

Turning back around, John leaned against the wall. "If you decide that you can't have what you want, you'll never get it. If you're not willing to fight for yourself, no one else will either."

"I fight every day. You don't understand. You can't understand," he said, the last few words quiet, defeated. "I'm…" He waved his hands, shuffling to his bedroom door. "Good night."

"Maybe I do, and that's why I keep trying," John said softly. He knew Rodney had heard him because he paused briefly, but John didn't give him a chance to answer, slipping into the bedroom.

He didn't sleep very well that night, skipping his run in the morning when he heard the rain pelting against the window above his head. Instead, he retreated to the living room to do some yoga. It wasn't his favorite thing in the world, but Teyla had made both him and Ronon learn it with her, and he was finding it surprisingly soothing this morning.

The apartment swirled around him, but the hustle and bustle didn't bother him. He had found his center, the calm he needed. He could do this. He would do this. Stress and irritation and panic had no place here, because he needed to be focused if he was going to pull this thing together.

By the time they were on their way to Parsons, he was calm, focused. He had a plan, what needed to be done, accomplished. Nothing else would disturb his single-mindedness.

When they arrived, he didn't pay any attention to anyone else, heading straight to his station and getting to work. He got more done in the next few hours than he had all the night before.

By the time lunch rolled around, he was cooking with gas, the design coming together effortlessly. He was a little surprised when Tim wandered up to him. He hadn't even heard him come in.

"Talk to me, John."

Blinking, John had to pull himself out of his happy place. "Um, hi." He quickly explained his concept to Tim.

"Interesting," Tim said, his hand holding his chin. "Do you think this…patchwork pattern will work?"

John nodded, and picked up some of the pieces he had cut to hold them up, so Tim could get a better idea of what he was going for. "I want to balance a modern look and feel that an untraditional princess would crave with the more traditional elements that would be required of her. I want the audience to know, as soon as she walks out of stage, what she's all about."

"You also don't want her to look like she's homeless or destitute. She's a princess."

"That's why I choose richer fabrics, and I plan to do some intricate detail embroidery on the hem and waistline of the pants that will be echoed in the jacket."

"Hmm…I don't want to discourage you, but I just think you need to be very careful that you're not crossing the line from princess into pauper. Make it work."

John nodded. He had a vision. He knew it didn't look like it yet, but it would by the time he was done. Tim moved on, talking to Rodney next, but John tuned them out. He didn't need to hear anything else. He had work to do.

By the time Amanda returned, he had all of the major pieces constructed, and was ready to work on the details that would really made this thing work.

She ooed and ahhed over it, before she slid into it. It was perfect.

He nodded to himself. "Let me get my pencil so I can mark where the detailing should go. I want it to really accentuate your curves, so when you wear it, it looks like it was designed specifically for your body."

"You have no idea how happy I am to be working with you," she said after a few minutes.

He looked up from where he was marking out an intricate pattern to go back over with the sewing machine in different colors of thread later. "What? Why?"

She looked at him in surprise. "You have actually seen your other competitors, right?"

He shook his head. "Well, I mean, I've seen them, but I've been so focused on getting this right this time, that I haven't looked around at all."

"Okay…the one with the ponytail? Deanna said he likes to grope her when he's fitting her. The two pale brothers from the sticks? Yeah, according to Andrea and Sara, they don't talk, except to each other and they're just waiting for the scissor to slip and kill them."

He made a face. "Kavanagh and the Wraith brothers are kind of freaky. To be honest, I'm hoping none of them stay around long. They're not all that good, and I know they're trying to intimidate and scare some of the others out of the competition."

"Okay, and that Chaya chick has no talent whatsoever," Amanda continued. "She just thinks that draping fabric and pinning it in place will work."

He grinned up at her. "I think we're right on the same page with who we're... less than impressed by. She's spent more time trying to get into my pants than designing. I've even told her she's the wrong gender for me, but she's convinced for some reason that she can turn me."

"Oh my god! You are so cute! No, you are totally into guys. You like the hunk on the other side of the room, don't you? Evan, I think is his name."

John grinned. "He is pretty hot, isn't he?"

"Yummy. Him and the one with the glasses. Not the European. He's too mousey for me."

"Which one?" John looked around quickly before going back to his design as they chatted. "Daniel? He's got a crush on Sha're, but Vala has been chasing him all over the place."

"Oh, Vala's the one in the leather, right? She's really forward with everyone. I think I heard her proposition a few of the models after the selections the other day."

"I wonder how some of these people even got into this competition. They seem more interested in having sex with each other than in designing anything."

Amanda shrugged. "I don't know. It always goes hand in hand."

"I guess. I'm the first to admit I enjoy a good time with a hot guy, but still... I don't chase them when we're actually here working." He finished the sketching he had been doing on her and stepped back. "Hmmm, I think that could work. I'm going to stitch blocks of color that will match the colors in the jacket. From far away it will look like just a solid block of color, but up close it will be intricate and rich-looking. I hope."

"It'll be great," she said with a smile, glancing toward the door. "I think we're getting ready to go."

"Crap, okay. Good timing though, this would have been a lot harder if I had to guess where the lines would hit your body." He smiled at her. "Let's get them off you carefully so we don't smudge my marks. You are going to look amazing in this when it's done."

"I know," she said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

He gave her a shy smile, and then quickly helped her out of it, waving goodbye as she slipped out with the rest of the models. He grabbed the thread colors he was going to need and his pants, and headed for the sewing room for some quality embroidery time.

There were a few people in the sewing room—Elizabeth, Sha're, Daniel, and one of the Wraith brothers—but it was quiet, everyone had buckled down as they tried to finish everything.

He made another good dent in what he needed to get done. It would be a stretch to finish in the few hours he had left tomorrow, but by the time they left for the night, he was feeling a lot better about it than when the day had ended yesterday.

Rodney and Radek immediately headed for the couch in the living room when they got home, complaining about the challenge and how much they still had to finish.

John considered heading to bed, but for some reason followed them in and dropped into one of the other couches across from them. It was a nice way to wind down, listening to them over-analyze everything.

"…believe the thing that Jackson's doing," Rodney said as John tuned in. "Did you see how much he had to finish yet?"

Radek rolled his eyes. "He is too busy sniffing certain women to focus on his efforts."

"Well, yeah, but I still don't see what he sees in her. It's like everything she does is perfect."

"Who knows the mind of another?" Radek snorted. "And did you see Wraith brothers' outfits? They are almost exact copies of last week."

"They're supposed to be doing Hamlet. I don't see it."

John found his eyes starting to close as their conversation washed over him.

They talked quietly about the other designs and designers and John let himself drift, only paying attention when he heard his name. "…caught John and Evan," Rodney said. "Can you believe it?"

"What?" John blinked his eyes open. "What about me and Lorne?"

"You awake?" Radek said, grinning down at him before he glanced up at Rodney. "Told you he would wake up if we talked about him."

Making a face, John sat up slowly. "What were you saying about me?"

Rodney climbed to his feet with a groan. "Nothing that you don't have first-hand knowledge about already. You should go to bed. The couch will kill your back."

Rolling his eyes, John sat up. "Accusing me of being a grade-a jerk with slut tendencies again?"

"No need to accuse. Evan was quite the tattle-tail."

"We made out, yes, and it would have gone further if we hadn't been called back. He's hot, he's interested, and I like him."

"See," Rodney said, waving his hand toward John. "I told you I wasn't making it up."

Repressing a sigh, John headed for his bedroom. "Just because I'd sleep with one guy doesn't mean I want to sleep with them all, you know."

"Just ignore Rodney," Radek said, pushing Rodney down the hall to the other bedroom even as he followed John into their room. "He is simply jealous. I do not think he has had any in years."

Chuckling, John shot him a grin. "I'd sleep with him in a heartbeat, but he doesn't even want to give me the time of day. Shame really."

"Jealous," Radek said with a knowing nod. "But that does not bode well for you and your assertions that you do not sleep with everything that breathes."

"Hey, he's hot! I can't help it if he's my type." John shrugged as he slipped into bed.

"Then perhaps you need to do something about it."

"He's not particularly receptive to me, if you hadn't noticed."

Radek shrugged. "He is not receptive to anyone and has been hurt before."

John sighed as he snuggled down into the covers. "I suspected as much."

"You would be surprised at things people share when drunk."

"I'm surprised you remember anything from the other night. You were both seriously toasted."

Radek smiled at him, pausing to take off his shirt. "I did not wish him to feel bad."

John sat up and stared at him. "You weren't as bad off as you looked?"

"He is lightweight," Radek said, smirking.

Letting out a breath, John shook his head. "Remind me never to drink with you."

Radek laughed, throwing his shirt in the pile of dirty clothes. "How else am I to learn weaknesses of strongest competitors? I must use every advantage."

"Yeah, seriously, I'm never drinking with you." John lay back down, his exhaustion starting to pull at him again.

Radek's chuckle was the last thing he remembered hearing before he slid into slumber.

His internal alarm woke him up way too early, but he forced himself to roll out of bed. It wasn't raining today, so he took a quick jog before showering and making the coffee. As hard as it was some mornings, it really did leave him feeling ready to face the day. He still had a lot to get done before the runway show today.

Rodney was the last one up this morning, barely stumbling out of bed and to the coffee pot in enough time to make the shuttles over to Parsons. He looked drawn and tired, even more than the day before.

John took a few minutes before he got started to take a peek at Rodney's outfit. It was really good, and John hoped the judges would see how hard he had worked on it.

He was actually surprised at how well the blue material really made the whole garment pop. It looked like suiting material, but a really fine gauge. The darts and finishing were perfect.

John shook his head. He was placing his bets on Rodney winning again this week, looking around at the others. Then he put his head down and got to work making sure he had a finished piece to send down the runway himself.

The next three hours flew. From the finishing touches, to the last fitting, to hair and make-up, it was a complete whirlwind. And before John knew it, they were downstairs and their designs were coming down the runway.

He was happy with what he had produced. Amanda worked it, and he really thought he had captured the essence he was going for. But when it came time to all stand before the judges, nerves kicked in.

"If I call your name, please step forward," Heidi said, glancing down at the cards in her hands. "Rodney, Sam, Laura, Daniel, Elizabeth, Evan, and Radek."

John looked around at the others who hadn't been called. Crap.

"Those of you whose name I called are safe. You can leave the runway."

John's fear ratcheted up. Those were the people he thought were safe, for the most part. He looked around again as the models came out. God, if he was in the bottom, this was going to suck.

Heidi waited until the other seven left the runway before continuing. "Jennifer and Chaya, please step forward. Your designs, while not the best this week, were also not the worst. They were good enough to see you through to next week. You can leave the runway."

They nearly squeed as they raced off the stage. Heidi continued once they were gone. "The six of you represent the four best and worst this week. Let's bring out your models."

Licking his lips. John could barely listen as the judges made their way down the line.

"So, John, tell us about your design."

He tried to smile and talk past his dry throat as he explained his inspiration to them. "I really wanted to find a balance between the character's personality and the more formal style of dress."

"Where did you draw your inspiration," Michael asked, leaning forward. "What show?"

"Ah, sorry. Shrek the Musical. I really liked the whimsy of it, and how it doesn't take itself too seriously, while at the same time busting through all the traditional stereotypes."

"Yes," Nina said, nodding. "I see that immediately."

"I agree," Harry said. "The colors and the tone-on-tone embroidery are simply marvelous."

John couldn't help the relieved smile. "I really struggled with how to give her an un-princessy feel without making her look like a peasant."

"I just wish you had made it bigger, bolder," said Harry. "It's hard to see that detail when you're sitting in the back of the orchestra section."

John nodded. "I thought about going with brighter colors on the thread, but then I was worried it would clash too much with the jacket."

"I would have liked it bolder," Nina said, nodding. "It is a costume and your chance to go over the top."

He nodded, and felt better knowing they liked it, at least. He probably wasn't in the bottom.

The judges finished going down the line and then dismissed them to the green room to wait. John collapsed into the couch as soon as he could. God, this was so nerve wracking.

The "safe" contestants were all lounging on the couches and chairs, drinking various things—from water and juice to beer—relaxed and enjoying the time they had to chill.

John found himself bouncing his leg non-stop. He hated that they took so long to just tell them already.

"Are you nervous?" Chaya asked, sliding down next to him, pressed up along his side.

He scooted as far away as he could, given he was next to an arm. "Yeah. I hate this part."

She shifted closer. "Well, at least I'm with good company."

He stood up. "I think I need to walk around a bit."

"Oh, come on, John. Don't be like that."

He didn't pay any attention, pacing his way across the room. Maybe if he ate a little something, it would calm his nerves.

Daniel was hovering over the table where the snacks were. He glanced up when John approached. "Oh, hey. You're not done yet are you?"

"No," John sighed. "I almost wish I was in the middle of the pack so I didn't have this stress of not knowing."

"It is nice. The non-stress, thing. But, I have to say it's equally frustrating because I don't know what I did wrong or right, either. Sometimes no critique is worse. It makes it more difficult."

"Yeah." John bounced on his toes. "Maybe."

"It is. It's actually been scientifically proven that all living creatures need some kind of affection or social interaction in order to lead full and productive lives. We need the chance to improve ourselves or else we become lazy and stagnant—both as people and as a society."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, John started to edge away. Daniel was a nice guy, but he got a little too into the history and shit of things sometimes.

"Take Rodney, for instance," he continued, picking up a banana and waving it around as he talked, oblivious to the fact that John was trying to get away. "He doesn't go beyond the very basic level of human interaction. Which probably goes back to his childhood."

"Uh huh." John edged further away, looking around for someone to save him.

"There couldn't have been a lot of affection or trust in the household. You can tell that from the way he holds himself, from his body language. He doesn't trust easily, if ever."

Spotting Rodney across the room, John nodded at Daniel. "I think I'll go talk to him and see if I can help him out then."

"It takes more than just a single conversation," Daniel said, looking across the room. "It takes years of counseling and treatment. It actually wouldn't surprise me if he died at a young age."

That was about as much as John could take, so he just walked away, hoping no one thought he was rude. "Hey, Rodney."

Rodney paused, mid-sentence, looking up at him. "Yes, what?"

"You're one of my few options for normal conversation."

"Ah…" he said, his eyebrow rising. "Well, that's a little disturbing."

"Yeah, no kidding." John dropped into a chair next to him.

Rodney looked back and forth from John to Radek. "I…ah…well."

"I hate this. I wish they'd just tell us who wins and who goes home, and let us get the hell out of here."

"That's what they're doing."

"No, they're driving me insane by making me wait."

"Oh, yes, because that's their grand master plan."

"I'm beginning to suspect." John's leg was back to bouncing mode.

Rodney snorted, rolling his eyes.

"We should bottle his energy, no?" Radek asked, eying John.

John shot him a look. "If either of you have any better ideas of what I can do to keep me from driving myself nuts waiting, I'm all ears."

"Eat." Rodney suggested, while Radek piped up with, "Drink."

"Yeah, my stomach is in too many knots right now."

"Talk. Fuck." Rodney shrugged. "Few options."

At fuck, John's head looked up. "Are you offering? Because seriously, you're really hot."

"No," Rodney said, immediately flushing. "I was merely giving you suggestions. I'm sure Evan or Chaya would take you up on that offer."

"Evan probably would, sure. Chaya... hell no."

"There is always drinking and eating. Or perhaps sleeping. Couch is lumpy, but serviceable."

"Yeah, drinking and eating are out, and Chaya would probably take me lying down as an invitation. God, why can't they just call us in?"

"Because they like driving us up wall."

"Do you think they'll give us free time like they did after the last challenge?"

"Who knows," Rodney said with a shrug. "Not like they really let us do anything."

"True." John sighed. "I wish they'd just call us back already."

"You've mentioned that already. Actually, you've mentioned it several times. I think we heard you," Rodney snapped. "It's not like we can do anything to change it."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just... I'm nervous."

"Perhaps you can talk about yourself," Radek suggested, shifting in his chair to look at John. "You are from…California? All blondes and surfing, yes?"

John snorted. "Not all, but yes there is a lot of it. I did some competition surfing for a while, and did pretty well, but that's not the sort of thing you can be on top at for more than a few years. I wanted to do something that will last."

"You have always lived in California?"

"Pretty much. I moved around a bit, and I've lived in most of the state at one point or another, but San Francisco has been my home for the past few years. I grew up there, and I finally decided to migrate back."

"Ah…land of equal opportunity," Radek said with a knowing smile.

"I guess. My family is still there, so it made sense. Most of them don't talk to me ever since I told them I was tired of trying to pretend I wasn't gay. My brother still likes me though."

"Oh? You have siblings?"

"One, a brother. You?"

"Two brothers, one sister. I am youngest in family."

"Wow, I can't even imagine growing up with that many other kids. What was it like?"

"It was…not easy in Czech Republic. Much unrest. I am thankful I did not have to go to war, but it does not mean I did not fight. Yes? Much unrest."

"So why fashion?"

"It was…something to do at home. My sister is two years older and much time was spent with her and our mother." He shrugged. "Good to create than destroy. No?"

"Yeah, I can see that." John shook his head. "Wow."

"I am glad it has been…successful. This is chance of lifetime for me, to do this."

"What are you hoping to do when the show is over?"

"Find work, continue designing." He shrugged. "Much is up in air. I do not wish to return to Prague if I can find something here."

"Yeah, I don't blame you. Is anyone else from your family over here?"

"No. I am alone here. I have been living in small apartment here in New York for last year. But it is hard to break into design world." He sighed. "If this does not go well, I am unsure if I can remain."

"I'm sure you're going to do great, and get contracts from this. I know it."

"I hope that is case," Radek said with a tired smile, taking a swallow of his beer. "Time will tell, yes?"

"I guess." John sighed. "What about you, Rodney? What do you hope happens after all this is over?"

He startled a little, his eyes shifting back to John. "Yes, sorry, what?"

"We were talking about what happens after this is all over. Any hopes and dreams?"

Rodney snorted. "Surviving," he said, his eyes shifting away again.

"That's not a dream. That's... sad." John frowned. "If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?"

"What does it matter?" he asked, looking at John once again, his eyes hard and untrusting. "My goal is to get through this."

"I don't know." John didn't back away from the hard look. "I guess I think there's a nice guy in there, if you'd let go and let him out. I'd like to see him get ahead."

Rodney snorted, looking away again. "Sure you would."

"Yes, actually. Why wouldn't I? I hope everyone here does well, even the people I might not like personally much. So why not you, who, for reasons only God knows, I do like?"

"Oh, yes. Let's rely on an omnipotent being and blame him for our own mistakes and screw-ups when things don't go our way. Oh, yeah. That's a smart move. I hate to break it to you, but he doesn't care what we do."

"Wow, strong feelings much?" John blinked. "It was a figure of speech."

"Sorry," Rodney said, looking back at John with a semi-sheepish expression. "It's…a long and boring story that you don't need to know. Let's just say that I have no evidence in a higher power or being or whatever."

"It's okay. I don't have any evidence one way or the other, so I just let it be, myself."

"So…yeah…" Rodney said, letting the words drop off.

John sighed. "Have I mentioned this part sucks?"

Rodney snorted, but didn't comment this time.

Finally, what seemed like hours later, the top and bottom four were called back to the runway.

"Welcome back, designers," Heidi said with a tight smile. "You all showed some of your best and worst looks today. Harry Gaines will announce our winner."

They all looked at Harry. There were eight very tense designers on the stage.

"You showed some very interesting designs today," Harry said. "And it was a difficult decision to make because there were good and bad points to all of them. But the design I chose today displayed fine workmanship without being too constructed. John, you're the winner today."

For a few seconds, John didn't process it. Then he found himself grinning hugely. "Wow, thank you so much! I... wow!"

"And there is another surprise," Heidi said with a smile. "In addition to immunity, your design will be considered by the Shrek musical to be used as a costume for the play."

John's eyes widened. "I... wow. Just... wow. Thank you so much... I just..." He was speechless.

"You may leave the runway."

John somehow managed to stumble back to the holding room in a daze. Wow.

"What's the verdict?" Daniel asked as soon as John was through the doors.

"I... I won. I... wow."

"Congratulations!" Daniel said, pulling him into a hug and patting him on the back. "That was a great design."

"It's... I can't believe it." John had to sit down. "Wow."

"We will drink to you tonight," Radek said, raising his beer bottle to John.

John accepted a beer and took a swig. He was still stunned. It was amazing that he had actually won.

And as the shock slowly wore off he realized winning was a really nice feeling.

***

Rodney didn't know how to take John.

It wasn't fair that he was so god-damned good-looking and everyone just automatically liked him. Rodney sighed, taking a small pull of his beer as he stood in the kitchen, staring across the open-concept room to the living room where John was holding court after his win.

He considered going to bed since he hadn't gotten much sleep the last two nights—what with his nerves about the challenge and concern about his current roommates. He swore someone had been through his stuff. It wasn't overt, but his things had been moved—and he didn't like that.

Between that and the barely veiled threats he'd gotten, sleeping between the two pale Goths was not really high on his list of things to do—but it wasn't like he had much choice in the matter. Maybe he should sleep on the couch out here. But then he'd be crippled because of his back.

He couldn't win.

At least one of them was gone now. Bob had been ousted, although that seemed to make Steve even more broody, and he was casting more evil looks in Rodney's direction. Although what the crazy man thought Rodney had to do with his brother going home, Rodney had no idea.

It just wasn't fair.

He took another small sip of his beer, staring into the other room, but not really paying any attention. Everyone else was clustered around John as he talked about meeting famous actors in California and surfing and all that other crap stuff that happened to lucky pretty people.

Since he wasn't paying attention, the man himself managed to take Rodney completely by surprise when he suddenly appeared next to him. "Hey, Rodney. Whatcha doing in here all by yourself? You should come sit with us."

Rodney tried not to jump even though his heart was hammering in his chest. "Are you trying to kill me?"

He got a confused look. "No, I'm getting another beer and asking you to come hang out with us."

"And give me a heart attack at the same time. You're trying to kill off your competition, I see. Very…sporting of you. Will you at least give me a running start next time?"

"Um, I wasn't hiding. You were staring right at me as I walked over."

"Was not."

John pointed back at the couch. "It's a direct line of sight between where I was sitting and where I am now. You think I have magic teleporting skills?"

"Even though I may have been facing in your general direction doesn't mean that I was looking at you," Rodney said with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest. "The world doesn't revolve around you, you know. Maybe I was looking outside or at something else near you."

"Which would still make it impossible to not see me approaching."

"Apparently I didn't see you."

John shrugged. "I can't help it if you were zoning out. There was no way I could have known that."

"Yes, well." Rodney huffed, knowing John had a point.

And there was that blinding smile that just begged people to come befriend him. "So come sit down and hang out with us."

"I'm good," Rodney said instead, fighting the lure of John Sheppard. God, that man was like a siren.

Shrugging, John grabbed a beer out of the fridge, brushing against Rodney's arm in the process. "Okay. But the offer stands. Come join us if you feel like it."

Rodney nodded his head, a silent bobble-head bob as he watched John move back into the center of the living room, all faces turned expectantly toward him.

He was so screwed and he knew it, too. If he let down his guard, just once, then everything would quickly go out the window. It had happened before. His damn obsessive personality got the best of him every time. But, no. He was here to compete, to win.

The party wound down quickly, and in another hour, everyone was heading to their beds. The producers had been more...forthcoming with details of what they were and weren't allowed to do on their day off from production.

With another quiet sigh, Rodney straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the kitchen counter, his back protesting for staying on his feet for so long—especially after the last two days. He needed to rest and recharge.

With one roommate gone, the other two were, for tonight at least, quiet. That was a bonus. When he wandered out the next morning, he found the coffee cup that was always magically there and ready for him in its usual spot.

He'd stopped thinking about it really after the first few days, tried not to think that John was trying to woo him, be nice to him. Because that would be…too much. Because thinking about John led to other thoughts. About how his jeans hung onto his hips, threatening to slide off if he moved in a certain way. About that dark hair on John's stomach he saw when John stretched his hands above his head. He tried not to think about how John would look naked.

It didn't help when the man wandered out without a shirt, still damp from a shower he must have just gotten out of. "Oh, hi. I wasn't sure if anyone else would be up yet. I got a later start than usual. The coffee ready? I put it on before I jumped in to clean off, since I knew I'd need it when I got out." He wandered closer.

"Uh…yeah. It's ready," Rodney said, shifting a few feet to the side to get out of John's way.

"Awesome." Reaching, John grabbed a cup out of the cabinet and proceeded to make his coffee. When he took a sip, he gave a little appreciative moan. "I have to say, they stock good coffee here."

"Yeah," Rodney said with an absent nod, his eyes threatening to slip out from his very fine control.

Leaning back against the counter, John smiled at him. "So what are your plans for the day? With the five-hour window we've got to actually leave the building, it's not much, but better than looking at the same walls all day."

"No plans," Rodney said, glancing at the windows across the way. It looked like it was going to be a nice day.

"Wanna go wander around the city a bit with me? There's still a ton of stuff I haven't seen, so I'd be game to go just about anywhere, if there's something you wanted to see."

"Figured you'd be going to find some private time with your boyfriend," Rodney said, the words popping out before he could even consider holding them back. He'd seen Lorne and John the other day, could smell the sex on them.

"Lorne? I think he's going out with some of the girls. He mentioned a shopping trip, and while I may be gay, that's one stereotype I don't fit in to. I like designing clothes, but shopping for women's underwear is not my idea of a good time."

"Shopping with the girls?" Rodney snorted. "That's just…wrong."

"Tell me about it. Which is why I immediately turned down the invitation."

Rodney took a sip of his coffee, trying not to think of what would happen to his very fine control if he spent the day with John.

"So what do you say? Wanna do a little sight-seeing with me?"

Something made him say yes.

John's face lit up. "Awesome! We're allowed to leave in about an hour, so let's head out then. Anything in particular you want to see, or should I just pick from my city map?"

"I…whatever you want."

"Cool. I'll plan it out then while you get ready. We're going to have an awesome time!"

"Sure," Rodney said, watching as John strode into his bedroom. As long as he didn't give himself a stroke in the meantime.

The next hour flew by, and before he knew it, he was out on the street heading for the subway station with John beside him. "So, I think I'd like to go down and see Wall Street and Battery Park, and then I was thinking we could go wander around the Central Park Zoo. My guidebook says it's not huge, so we should be able to get it all in. What do you think?"

"Sure. As long as you don't throw me into the lion's den, in front of traffic, or in front of a bus or subway, we're fine."

John rolled his eyes, but grabbed Rodney's hand as he dragged him down the stairs. "We're going to have fun!"

"Easy! Easy! Some of us don't have gangling long legs," he protested as he huffed and puffed behind John.

Laughing, John bumped his shoulder. And didn't let go of his hand. "Relax. Today is all about no stress and having a good time."

"No stress! Getting lost in New York City was not on my plans for today," he said as John looked over the subway maps. "Do you even know where you're going?"

"Vaguely. I'm not from here, remember." Glancing up, John was grinning. "But that's half the fun."

"Oh god. We're going to get lost and mugged and someone will find our bodies in a dumpster."

"Trust me. I won't let anything happen to you. And here comes our train!"

Dead. He was so dead. He could see the headlines now: "Aspiring Designer Killed When Contestant Pushes Him in Front of Oncoming Train"

Despite his fears, they made it to Battery Park in one piece, and wandered around. John grinned as he looked out at the Statue of Liberty and took in all the tourists. And he had yet to let go of Rodney's hand. It was... warm and comforting, and Rodney was trying very hard not to think about it.

John was like a kid in a lot of ways. Wide-eyed and eager, drinking everything in. "Did you see the Staten Island Ferry?" Rodney asked, pulling John's attention to him.

John craned his head around. "Where?"

Rodney pointed. You could see the barest sliver of the boat right now, but within a few minutes it would pull out, crossing the river.

"Let's go watch it!" John tugged him over to the gate that separated them from the water. "New York is more beautiful than I thought it would be."

"If we stay here much longer we're not going to make it to the Zoo, you know," Rodney said, not really protesting as John pulled him along.

"I know. We'll head that way after the ferry leaves." John smiled over at him.

"We could wait. Do that another day," Rodney said quietly, surprised that he'd offered.

The smile on John's face got bigger. "Okay. I'll hold you to that, then. On the next break day."

"Okay," Rodney said with his own small smile, nodding. "So…the ferry?"

John looked back out. "That thing's is massive."

"It's a ferry."

"I know, but it's... huge." John shook his head.

"It's for commuters," Rodney said, leaning on the railing as they watched the orange boat slid past them. "There's been ferry service between Staten Island and New York since the 1700s."

"Wow. I didn't know that. Has it ever stopped for any length of time, or is that in continuous use?"

"More or less, yes. Different boats and whatnot. Do you know why it's painted orange?"

"No, why?" John had leaned a little, so his side was pressed against Rodney.

"The original color—which was white—was changed in 1926 to a reddish-maroon color. They changed it again later to the orange so it could be seen in heavy fog and snow."

"Where do you get all this information?" John smiled at him. "It's amazing."

Rodney shrugged. "I like to read and know the places I'm going."

"That's really awesome." John licked his lips. "Would you be pissed at me if I said I really want to kiss you right now?"

"That…" Rodney said, glancing away from John, "probably wouldn't be a good idea."

"Okay." John squeezed his hand. "But when and if you're ever ready, I'll take a rain check."

"Where else did you want to go?" Rodney asked after a few minutes of silence. "We probably have to get back soon anyway."

"We still have some time. Why don't we find somewhere to eat?"

"Sure. Something cheap would be good," Rodney said, moving with John as they walked back through Battery Park and toward the streets of lower Manhattan. "Maybe in the Village somewhere?"

"Ooo, I wanted to go there! Yeah, that sounds like a good plan!"

They headed back to the subway, taking it up into Soho where they wandered around, finding a little hole in the wall pizza joint to grab food.

John relaxed back in his chair once he was done. "This has been a perfect day, hasn't it?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it perfect."

"Oh?"

"No," Rodney said, trying to ignore the flush he felt on his face. "One, perfect usually involves sex and…that's not happening. Two: perfect doesn't happen to me. Something bad will come. We still have plenty of time."

He could hear the amusement in John's voice. "Well, I wouldn't mind sex, but I'm willing to wait for that. I've never gotten to really woo someone. I'm enjoying it. And I have enough confidence that nothing bad will happen today for both of us."

Rodney huffed, rolling his eyes. "Yes, well, we should probably leave before they send the dogs out on us."

"You're still going to the Zoo with me on our next day off, right?"

"I said so," he blustered, standing up and gathering up the paper plates to shove into the nearest garbage can.

"Good." John reclaimed his hand as soon as they were back on the street.

"You know, I can manage to walk next to you without help."

"I'm not trying to help you with anything. I like holding your hand."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

Rodney rolled his eyes as they headed to the nearest subway entrance. "The last time I checked we weren't twelve-year-old girls who had to rely on the buddy system so they didn't get lost in the big bad city."

John rolled his eyes. "No kidding. It's called romance."

Rodney stopped mid-step, forcing John to as well since he wasn't letting go. "What do you want, John? Really? Is this just some…thing to force me off my game and distract me so you can win? I see what you're trying to do. I'm on to you," he said, taking a step closer as he poked his finger into John's chest.

For a moment, he saw hurt flash across John's face before it was covered up again. "How many times do I have to tell you, it's not? I don't work that way. When and if I win, it will be because I was the best, not because I cheated or sabotaged anyone. What I want is to get to know you and hang out. I'm attracted to you. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Actually," Rodney said, tilting his head up defensively. "It is."

"Why? You're hot. You're talented. You're interesting. I could go on with a ton of reasons why."

"Because. There are a million reasons why and I have no intention of listing them for you," Rodney said, trying to tug his hand from John's so he could cross his arms over his chest. John, though, wasn't having any of it.

"Look, I get it, okay. Sometime, somewhere, someone hurt you. Maybe some day you'll tell me, but if not, that's cool too. In the meantime, at least try to see that not everyone is out to get you, and just enjoy this, okay?"

Rodney snorted, letting John tug him along once again. "And watch it blow up in my face," he muttered. Everything good always ended up really badly. It wasn't fair.

"Look at it this way. You can take a chance on me, and the worst that will happen is that we have fun flirting during the show and then we never see each other again. How is that bad?"

"Can we say syndicated television and DVD sales?"

"So? Who cares what's on camera and what's not? As long as neither of us runs through the workroom naked or we have sex on someone's half-finished garment, I think we'll be okay."

"What's off-camera never stays off camera. Don't you get it?" Rodney argued as John let go of his hand only long enough to go through the subway turnstile. "Once it airs, this show will be on television over and over again as a constant reminder to yet another screw up in my life. I don't even know why I agreed to do it in the first place, although there is the whole money thing. That was probably a good motivator."

John paused, looking at him closely. "Why does it have to be a screw-up? You're rocking the competition so far, and all I'm asking for is to be your friend and flirt a little. I'd like to do more, but if you're not comfortable with it, that's fine."

"You don't understand," Rodney said with a soft sigh. "I wonder if Kors misses me."

"Why would Michael Kors miss you?"

"No," Rodney said, looking up. "Not him. My cat. I've never been away this long before."

John blinked. "You named your cat after Michael Kors?"

"It's better than Coco."

Chuckling, John started tugging him along again. "And here's another reason I'm attracted to you. You manage to amuse and surprise me constantly."

"What? Why? What did I do?"

"You're you."

Rodney snorted, shaking his head as the incoming train drowned out any chance for a reply. John tugged him on board the packed train. He directed Rodney to the closest pole and then pressed himself against his back, holding on a few hand-holds above Rodney's own. "Ah…"

"Yes?"

"How about a little room here?"

"Where would you like me to go?"

"It's just…" Rodney said, trying not to think of all the people around him and the concrete and the city above his head.

"It's just a few stops. We'll be there in no time at all. If some people get out, I'll move back."

He closed his eyes, chanting "wide-open spaces" in his head, trying to picture the blue sky from earlier. But all he could hear was the screeching of the subway on the tracks, the smell of bodies pressed in close.

"Rodney?" John's voice was in his ear. "Are you okay? You just turned white."

He shook his head, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

"Rodney?" Concern was evident in John's voice. "Tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help."

"Looks like he's having a panic attack," some not-helpful hooligan commented.

Rodney felt John shift around a bit so he could see his face. "Rodney? What's wrong? Is it crowds?"

He nodded once. And small spaces. And smells. And sounds. It was the whole package.

"Look at me." John's fingers curled around his chin. "Look me in the eyes. Don't look anywhere else, or think about anything else. Just me."

The subway lurched, knocking Rodney into John, as it pulled into the next station.

John's eyes didn't leave Rodney's. "Do you want to get off here and walk?"

Rodney didn't give John any warning, but darted for the door as soon as he saw it was open, shoving people out of the way in order to get out of the subway of death.

For a moment he lost John completely, but then the other man was there again, a hand on his arm, guiding him toward the exit.

Only when he was outside, back pressed against the cold stone of a building did he actually start breathing again.

A moment later, something was pressed into his hand. When he looked, it was a can of diet soda. "I... didn't know if maybe you were nauseous, and that always helps me when I am, and I wasn't sure what else I could do to help, so..." John trailed off.

"Sorry," Rodney muttered, taking a sip of the too-sweet soda.

"Nothing to be sorry about. I wish I knew what to do to help. What was it? The crowds?"

Rodney nodded. "Smells. Sounds. The thousands of pounds of concrete above my head."

"Claustrophobia, huh? That sucks." John gave him a small smile and a quick hug.

"It's…not all the time and I can usually deal with it. Sorry."

"Don't be. It's nothing you can control." He got another smile. "When you're ready, we can walk for a bit. I don't think the apartments are too far from here. Maybe twenty blocks. We can meander."

"Or cab. That should be okay."

"Why don't we walk for a bit, until you're not feeling so closed in, then we can hail one. Some of those cabs are pretty smelly, and I don't want you to get tossed back there again. That was... if there's anything I can do to prevent that look on your face from happening again, I'll do it."

Rodney shook his head as he pushed himself away from the wall he'd been leaning on. "Sure, let's go. And honestly, there's nothing much you can do."

John glanced around and then picked a direction, starting to walk. "Well, I can make sure you're really feeling better before jamming you in the back seat of a small cab. And I can find alternative modes of transportation on future jaunts into the city. No more metro."

"Ah. Wrong way."

"No, it's not."

Rodney pointed to the signs and then gestured to the streets. "Uptown's that way."

"Really?" John looked a little perplexed, but shrugged it off a few moments later. He started off again the way Rodney had pointed. "So we'll just walk back. No more subway for you."

"I was fine this morning," he protested. "It wasn't crowded or anything. I've been on the subway plenty of times before, too. I don't know why it happened now."

John shrugged. "I've known people who have it, although I've never seen anything as bad as yours just now. But they told me sometimes you get just the right kind and amount of triggers, and wham, you can't breathe and the world is closing in on you."

Rodney nodded. "Pressing down, like there's not enough air."

John's hand slipped back into Rodney's free one. "I'm glad we got out then."

They ended up walking the rest of the way back to the apartment in companionable silence. One of the producers was in the lobby waiting for them when they finally walked in nearly an hour late.

John smiled at her. "Hi, sorry we're late. The subway had an issue, and we ended up having to walk."

"Subways have been running fine," she said, narrowing her eyes. "I've checked. Any reason why you decided not to answer your phone?"

"The line we were on was having issues. I can't tell you more than that." John shrugged and pulled out his phone. "And my phone didn't ring. See: no missed calls. Maybe we didn't have a signal. To be honest, I wasn't checking."

"Are you done?" Rodney asked. "I'd like to go upstairs and settle in for the rest of the night or is there something you needed us for?"

She glared back and forth at them, after taking the phone the studio had issued John this morning so they could reach them. She scowled when it showed he was telling the truth—about the phone, at least. "Yes, go upstairs. We'll expect everyone ready to go tomorrow morning at 7:30 am."

"Fine. We'll be ready," Rodney said, tugging John toward the elevators.

John waved as they stepped inside and the doors closed. "Wow, she seriously needs to get laid. I've never met anyone that uptight in my life."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed, taking a deep breath as the car started to rise. It was only a minute or so in the elevator, but right now it was a lifetime.

John's hand was back in his, squeezing lightly. "I'll be right here, if that helps. I don't know if it does, but..."

"There is no way in hell I'm walking up twenty flights of stairs," Rodney muttered, trying to convince himself that the walls were not closing in on him. He'd been in the elevator dozens of times. It was perfectly fine.

"Maybe I can distract you for a minute." Before Rodney could process that, lips were lightly brushing over his. "Tell me if this isn't helping, and I'll stop."

Rodney tilted his head and when their lips met again, Rodney groaned. He was so, so screwed.

John took that as an invitation, deepening the kiss, but not by much. It was still mostly just soft breath and lips sweeping across Rodney's mouth. When the elevator dinged that they were at their floor, John pulled back. "There, we're here and you didn't even notice the last little bit."

John led him from the elevator and down the hall toward their room. He paused only long enough to open to the door and usher Rodney inside. Everyone was there—girls included—hanging out and laughing and drinking.

John waved. "Hi, guys! How was your day?"

"It's about time you came back," Lorne said, holding up his beer. "We thought you guys had left for good."

"Nah, we just took the scenic route. It was a nice day, and we decided to walk instead of taking the subway."

"I'm going to…" Rodney said quietly, pointing toward his room. He needed a few minutes.

John smiled and nodded. "I'll save you a beer."

He took care of business and then ended up parking himself on the empty bed next to the window—he should really take it over now that Bob was gone. John had kissed him. Kissed him.

He was so screwed.

***

Kissing Rodney had probably been a mistake. What had been an attraction before was starting to become an obsession now. John had dreamt, all night, about that kiss. And that, of course, had led to other, less PG versions.

He woke up very horny and very out-of-sorts. His jog helped, and by the time they all made it to the location where Tim was waiting for them, he was feeling much better. For some bizarre reason, being next to Rodney was helping the weird craving John was having, instead of making it worse.

"Good morning, designers," Tim said with a broad smile. "Welcome to one of New York City's newest parks: The High Line. Located on Manhattan's West Side, the High Line runs from Gansevoort Street in the Meatpacking District to 34th Street, between 10th & 11th Avenues. We're in Section one today which runs from Gansevoort Street to 20th Street."

They all looked around. John was impressed. This was a pretty cool place to hang out.

"We have with us today, David Parrish, one of the leading eco-designers in the field. David specializes in using materials that are environmentally-friendly and offer little or no impact on our environment."

There was a murmur through the other designers. That had a lot of potential for a cool challenge.

"It's great to be here with you in this beautiful park," Parrish said, offering an easy smile. "Like Tim said, I love to create garments that provide little or no impact on our environment—from the creation of them all the way through the wearing and eventual retirement of the garment. What I want you to do for this challenge is to create something very wearable and fashion forward, but that is also very environmentally-friendly. Feel free to take some of your inspiration from what you see around you."

At a movement, John looked over and saw Lorne captivated by Parrish. He was staring openly, in an I-Want-You kind of way. Huh. He forced his attention back to Tim, who was giving them more details. "Designers, you'll have two days for this challenge, but everything must be hand-sewn. No machines that pull power on this one. Also, instead of going to Mood, we'll be shopping at a small specialty store that only sells sustainable fabrics."

"And keep in mind your notions, too," Parrish said. "Everything needs to be sustainable. No metal zippers."

A collective groan went up. This was going to be a tough challenge. Tim smiled at them. "You've got thirty minutes to sketch here in the park before we go shopping."

Every scattered as soon as Tim said they were free and John found himself heading out with McKay, sticking close to him.

They ended up at a location that had a nice contrast of both the greenery and the city in the background and sat down to sketch. John was kind of at a loss for this one, so he went through several pages without coming up with anything he loved.

Rodney was grumbling and mumbling under his breath next to him, but John was getting used to it. Rodney had done that with every design so far, proclaiming the world was coming to an end and then pulling out a fantastic design at the last minute.

As the end of the sketch period was getting closer, John was getting a little desperate. He focused himself, and ended up with something that he wasn't totally thrilled with, but it was a starting point and hopefully he could improve on it as he worked.

"Stupid environmental challenge," Rodney muttered under his breath as he stood up when they were called to go back down to the cars.

"Tell me about it," John sighed. "I hate my design already."

"I have no design. I have nothing. And there is no way I'm going anywhere near green fabric. That's just…no. I'm tempted to do something metal and gunmetal grey just to be obstinate."

John grinned. "I like that idea. What I've got so far looks like my model would be wrapped in burlap with some feathers stuck in her hair. It would look like she just escaped from a chicken farm."

"You did feathers already."

"I know." John groaned. "I'm so fucking doomed on this one."

"At least you have immunity," Rodney said as they headed down the stairs to the awaiting cars.

"I don't want to stay in because they can't kick me out. I want to be here because I'm a good designer." John sighed again. "Maybe one of the fabrics at the store will inspire me."

"I'm not even hoping for that much," Rodney said with a sigh, angling for one of the window seats.

"You'll be okay. Your designs always turn out amazing."

"We'll see."

"Yeah." John ran a hand through his hair.

They made their way to the small shop where only three or four of them could go into the shop at any one time, leaving the majority of the contestants sitting in the SUVs waiting for their turn.

It just so happened that John and Rodney were in the same group, but John lost him as soon as they went inside. Looking around, he was surprised by how much color there was. For some reason, he had been thinking in all drab browns and beiges. He came across a brilliantly colored hot-pink fabric near the back, with another bolt nearby of a similar material in shades of dark blue and silver. Hmmm. John decided to go with it, and when he got back to the workroom, he'd figure something out.

Rodney, it turned out, had gone with the dark, concrete grey color he'd mentioned earlier. A few different shades of grey all the way to black would certainly be a little strange to see on the runway—especially if everyone else was doing the whole "green" thing.

John had a feeling it was either going to be a star, or a sore thumb, but at least he had a plan, where John, right now, just had some cool fabrics.

They ended up back in the workroom at some point later that afternoon. There was a lot of chatter and laughter as people slowly settled in. They had two days for this challenge and it seemed like a lot of people weren't taking it as seriously as the first two.

John played with draping, trying his fabrics in different ways, with first the pink as the primary, and then the blue as the primary. He just didn't know what he wanted from this outfit.

"So, have you noticed that it looks like a forest in here?" Rodney said quietly as he moved a few steps closer.

John glanced around and made a face. "Yeah. I think we're the only ones not doing anything green."

"Least we'll stand out."

"This is true, for better or for worse." John stood back and squinted at his fabrics again. Which do you like better as the accent and which as the primary?"

"You mean this scary tribute to the 80s?"

"I couldn't help myself. In all the greens and browns, this really caught my eye."

"Yeah, you might need to get those things examined by a doctor, then," Rodney said with a scowl. "I’m headed to get some coffee."

"Okay. If it's the decent stuff, would you grab me a cup?"

"Oh." Rodney paused. "You don't want to come with?"

John glanced up surprised, a huge smile splitting his face. "Now that you've offered, as a matter of fact I think I will."

Rodney gave him a shy, half-smile before he headed toward the kitchen. And yeah…that was the kind of thing that was going to get the two of them into way too much trouble.

They enjoyed chatting for a few minutes—and John ogled Rodney's ass every time he turned around—before getting back to the workroom.

And was Rodney flaunting his ass more than he usually did?

John caught himself more than once staring instead of working, and he was pretty sure Rodney saw him doing it, too.

And if Rodney saw it, then the camera saw it, too. He was going to be on national television ogling Rodney's ass. Well, and Rodney flaunting that said ass in the first place.

Shaking himself, John forced himself to re-focus on his design. If he got kicked out, he wouldn't be around to continue his ogling, now would he? Although, this was his "get out of jail free" week. He had immunity. He could do anything he wanted this week. Anything at all.

Staring at his fabric again, he decided to go bold and take some risks. He pulled everything he had draped so far off the mannequin and started over, this time thinking of the flowers they had planted in the park, and deciding to go big.

Really big.

He stepped back, eyeing the mannequin, and then started to picture the shape of the garment in his mind. The two colors would mingle together through the bodice of the dress.

He would panel them, with each one being evocative of a flower-petal-type shape, with hints of skin between them.

Yes. Yes. This would work. He nodded to himself and then started cutting the fabric, pinning it in place as he worked the larger pieces around the dress form.

He jumped when a hand touched his arm, surprised to see Rodney there. "Hey, didn't hear you sneak up. What do you think? I finally came up with a concept."

"Least it's not feathers," Rodney said with a smile. "We got the fifteen minute warning bell."

"We did?" John looked at the clock. "Shit, where did the day go? Thanks for telling me."

Rodney shrugged, turning back to his table to pack up his tools—and flaunt his ass. "Didn't think you heard her. You've been in your own little world for hours."

John blinked, staring for a moment. "Mmm? Oh, yeah. I finally got an idea, and I wanted to run with it and get the foundations done before I lost my train of thought. How's yours coming along?"

"Slowly," Rodney said with a sigh, zipping up the case that held his scissors and other tools. "I'm trying to make sure the bodice is really well-structured, but I also want it to look organic in a way. I need my model."

"When's our first fitting tomorrow?"

"First thing, I think," Rodney said, gesturing toward the door.

"Good. I want to see how this idea is going to look on a real person." John fell in next to Rodney.

"I think that's the point I'm at. I need to see it on the model."

John bumped Rodney's shoulder. "From what I've seen so far, you're going to be fine."

Rodney flashed him a shy smile. "It will all depend on the fitting, I think."

"We still have all day tomorrow, and part of the following day to get it right. I know you'll do just fine." John wanted badly to take Rodney's hand, but he was aware of the other contestants and cameras still around them, so he didn't.

But god…the come-hither looks Rodney kept sending him were going to kill him sooner rather than later. It seemed that yesterday's kiss had certainly changed Rodney's mind when it came to the possibility of hooking up with another contestant.

John decided to risk, as they all piled into the elevator, putting a hand on Rodney's ass. They were all in so tight and everyone was chatting, he didn't think anyone would notice it, or that he leaned in and whispered very quietly in Rodney's ear. "You have the most perfect ass known to man."

Rodney groaned low in his throat, leaning back into John's hand. He turned his head, whispering back at John. "And here I thought you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, I noticed." John squeezed lightly. "I definitely noticed."

"Noticed what, Shep?" Lorne asked, shifting so he could look at John.

John had to swallow and think fast. "Rodney's design. He's got some really cool ideas, and I can't wait to see how it turns out."

"You haven't told me what you two did yesterday or where you found a personality transplant for McKay," Lorne said, smirking.

John rolled his eyes. "Stop picking on Rodney. He's a good guy and a great designer. And we ended up going to Battery Park and wandering around for a while."

Rodney shifted on his feet, pressing back into John's hand. "You were out shopping with the girls."

John nodded. "How did that go, by the way?"

Lorne rolled his eyes as the elevator reached the ground floor. "I've been in so many shops that I'm convinced Victoria does not have any more secrets left."

John chuckled as they all filed out of the elevator. "That would be one of the reasons I was quick to turn that particular invitation down."

Rodney had shifted away from John and Lorne, headed to the first SUV as soon as they hit the sidewalk. "Radek said he saw you and Rodney yesterday in Soho," Lorne said quietly. "What's going on with the two of you?"

John shrugged. "Nothing yet. I'm attracted to him, but I really didn't make that a secret."

"I thought…" Lorne started, but stopped, looking away. "Look, we had something…didn't we?"

John nodded, and smiled. "I'm attracted to you, too. I think we'd have a hell of a time in bed. But Rodney is... I can't figure out what he is. He fascinated me along with the attraction, and I don't know why."

"So when this challenge is over…" Lorne tilts his head to the side as they walked to the last SUV. "I still have that hotel info."

"I don't know. Let me think about it, okay? I think I need to decide if I want to ever pursue something with him when this is all over."

"You don't know."

John sighed. "I don't know what I want with Rodney, and I have a feeling if I sleep with you now, I'll lose any chance of even being his friend."

"You're a guy," Lorne said, rolling his eyes as they climbed in the last SUV. Thankfully it was only the two of them. "What does it matter? You won't see him after this show is done."

"That's the thing... I might want to. He... fascinates me."

"He's not an exhibit at the zoo."

"No, I know. He just... there's something about him that keeps pulling me in."

"Uh huh," Lorne said, his face closing down. He looked away from John, eyes focused on the scenery outside the window of the car as they drove back to the apartment.

"Lorne..." John sighed. "I didn't plan this. I swear."

"I don't need an apology, Sheppard."

"I just... I didn't want you to think I was leading you on. Not on purpose. I just... it's weird. I keep having dreams of him and I together when we're old, and it's... I can't shake them."

Lorne shook his head, laughing silently. "You are really a nutcase, aren’t you? Look, just…do your thing, whatever it is and leave me out of it. Deal?"

"Deal." John gave him a small grin.

"I'll give you that info I got from my sister when we get back to the apartment. You might need it."

"I appreciate it. I don't know if I'll get to use it, but thanks."

"Yeah," Lorne said, his hand gesturing oddly before landing on his tool kit, gripping it tightly. "Whatever."

Great. Now John felt like a total heel. He spent the rest of the drive feeling like the lowest scum on the face of the Earth.

By the time they got back to the apartment building the first car group head already headed upstairs. The rest of the contestants were all loitering in the lobby waiting for the next elevator.

John managed, somehow, to slip in without striking up any more conversations. Once upstairs, he wandered back toward the bedrooms, not really feeling like socializing much.

He nearly managed to walk into Rodney who was barreling down the hall already in his boxers and t-shirt.

John's body responded before he could full process it. "Um. Hi."

"Oh, hi," Rodney said, taking a few steps back, arms crossing over his chest. "You're back."

"Yeah. Got stuck in the last car. That'll teach me to let myself get caught up in conversation. Although I doubt it will happen again." John made a face. "Lorne is kind of pissed at me for turning down his offer to go out after this challenge."

"Don't let me stop you from doing something you want to do," Rodney said a little coldly.

"No, that's the thing. I don't... actually want to anymore." He gave Rodney a small smile. "You've gotten under my skin, McKay, and now I can't think of anyone else but you."

Rodney snorted. "Wow. Even I can tell that's a line—and what a line it is."

John sighed. "Look, if you want to know, I told him that right now I want to see where this goes with you, and I'm pretty damn sure if I jumped off to sleep with him casually, it would ruin any chances at all I might have with you."

"Damn right."

"Yeah, so... I'm celibate at the moment. Which, I have to say, completely amazes me. I wish I knew what it was about you that makes me want to actually go that far to get you."

"I guess we'll have to see if it was all worth the wait, now won't we?" Rodney said quietly, a weird but pleased look on his face.

John cocked his head. "I have a funny feeling it will be."

"I guess you'll find out," he said, slipping past John into the kitchen.

John watched him go, his body aroused and his chest oddly tight. It was weird, but he had meant it. If he could get Rodney to actually trust him, this could be good. Really good.

***

Rodney stumbled out of bed the next morning at o-dark-thirty cursing the producers, the stupid reality show, the rest of the contestants, and his own sad and desperate need to have John Sheppard.

The kiss…god, the kiss had been fantastic and had been all he'd been able to think about yesterday instead of concentrating on the challenge. And then John kept staring at his ass.

Staring.

At his ass.

So, he'd started wiggling it in his direction. You know, to check and see if that was actually what he was looking at. When John had grabbed him in the elevator it had taken all of his will not to burst into an instantaneous orgasm.

But then Lorne had to butt in and John had gotten all…buddy-buddy with him.

Okay, so he might be a little paranoid. He might have to admit that stomping off to the first SUV may have been a little childish, but John had been making googly eyes at Lorne. What else should he have thought about?

The object of his obsession was, as usual, already showered and cheery by the time Rodney went looking for coffee. Which was waiting for him, steaming hot, made exactly the way he liked it.

He took a deep sip, humming in appreciation. "Oh, this is good."

Across the room, John glanced his way and smiled.

"Big day," he said, sipping at his coffee.

"Yeah." John wandered over. "I hope I can get it most of the way done today, so it will just be touch-ups and alterations tomorrow."

"Like that will actually happen. They never give us enough time to actually do these garments the right way and then they have the gall to complain about it."

John's chuckle sent a little thrill through Rodney's body. "Of course. But by the same token, those of us who do manage to do well in the limited time frame prove we're the best of the best in the up and coming fashion market."

"I guess," he said, rolling his eyes. John slid up next to him, his side pressed against Rodney's. And it wasn't the first time Rodney cursed himself for not putting any real clothes on before walking out. Boxers and sweats weren't going to cut it.

"You smell good." John lowered his head and, with a quick wicked look, pressed his nose into the side of Rodney's neck before reaching past him for the coffee pot. John smirked at him as he refilled his cup.

"John…" Rodney hissed, his body tingling. "There are cameras."

John's smile turned a little sensual. "Oh, I won't cross any lines. Just enjoying the sights, the smells..."

"You're going to out us on national television if you keep this up."

"So? Who cares if America sees us flirting? It doesn't affect our work, and since the judges don't see any of this footage until after the competition, it doesn't bias them at all."

"Maybe. But what if it does?"

"Does what?"

"Bias them," he hissed, reaching for his coffee and trying not to look at the camera in the corner of the kitchen.

John sighed softly. "How can it? They don't see the tapes. And even if they did see them, how does a little open flirting hurt anything? I promise, I have no plans to maul you on the runway for a national audience."

"No. You plan to maul me in the kitchen in front of a national audience," Rodney said, offering a cautious and shy half-smile.

"Well... we're not working or competing yet. So it's fair game."

"Is it?"

"It totally is."

Rodney shifted, turning toward John, making sure to brush against him—innocently, of course. "So, what does that mean, exactly?"

"It means this." John leaned in, hesitating just long enough to give Rodney time to pull away if he had wanted to, before pressing their lips together again for another light kiss.

When he pulled back Rodney blinked up at John, only a few inches apart. Rodney licked his lips. "That's certainly an interesting…point of view."

"If necessary, I can elaborate to further prove my point."

"I'm sure you could," Rodney said with a smile, his hands clutching at the half-full coffee mug pressed between them.

"Maybe I'll save my next point for later. I've found the best way to win a debate is to slowly build up to your conclusion."

"So you've…debated before?"

"Minor debates. This time, though, I think I'm going to try for the big leagues."

Before Rodney could reply, a screeching voice shattered the playful flirting mood they'd established. "OH MY GOD! What are you doing? Are you making out in the kitchen?"

John rolled his eyes. "No, we're chatting and drinking coffee."

God, Rodney thought, he hated Kavanagh. He contemplated using his pinking shears to do some damage to the annoying weasel. But then, he'd have to buy new ones and it had taken him years to find this pair.

With a last heated look at Rodney, John moved away slightly.

"You have my mug!" Kavanagh said, pointing at the ceramic in Rodney's hands.

"Actually, that's Rodney's mug. If you've used it, it was because you stole the one I had pulled out for him." John answered before Rodney could, and his tone wasn't very friendly.

Rodney glanced up at John, a little surprised by his revelation. He hadn't really realized John had been leaving it out for him nearly since the beginning. Huh. "And I know you have two hands," Rodney said, scowling. "You wave them around enough when you're whining, so I know you can get your own mug."

Kavanagh looked at them both haughtily. "I can't wait for you to be gone. This place will be so much nicer without you."

Rodney snorted. "You're heading out before we will."

"Hardly. I'll be the winner of this whole thing. No one else here has my talent."

"No one wants what little talent you have," Rodney said, knocking back the rest of his coffee before he moved to the dishwasher to put the mug inside.

"We'll just see, won't we?" Kavenaugh got his own mug of coffee and then stormed back into the bedroom.

"Well," Rodney said, letting out a breath. "That certainly ruined the mood."

"Yeah." John sighed. "You need to get ready soon, anyway. But we will pick up that debate later."

"If we can," Rodney said, heading down the hall, John a few steps behind.

"Oh, we will. This is one debate I intend to win."

"Well, I guess we'll see now, won't we?"

Rodney glanced over his shoulder. John just winked at him. Rolling his eyes, Rodney ducked into his room to get ready, trying unsuccessfully to avoid Kavanagh and Steve—both of whom were shooting him death looks. Great. Just great.

They headed over to Parsons in the rain and before he knew it their models were coming in for fittings and the hours were vanishing faster than he could sew. God! He hated sewing by hand.

As the day wore on, he and John had focused more on their garments than on flirting, and everyone was so tired when they got back to the apartment that there was a universal collapse into bed almost immediately.

The next day was another whirlwind of last-minute alterations, getting the models into hair and make-up, accessorizing, and then it was time for the runway show.

By the time Rodney sat next to the runway as the models strutted their stuff in the runway show, he was exhausted.

It wasn't his best work, but he didn't completely hate it either. John's had turned out classier than he would have expected from the fabric choices. But everyone else was a sea of green sameness. It was a little boring, honestly.

Eco-friendly didn't mean everything had to be green. If he was judging this, he would have had a difficult time distinguishing between one Kermit-green garment and another.

When it came time to announce the top and bottom three, Lorne, Radek, Daniel, Steve, Kavenaugh, and Chaya were called forward. The rest of them were told they were safe and could leave the runway.

Great. Another week of mediocrity. Rodney stormed off the runway, throwing himself onto the nearest soft surface.

John dropped down next to him. "Well, being in the middle is better than being on the bottom."

"I don't know about that."

"We're still here to compete. Better than going home."

"But in this…middle zone thing, we have no idea what was good or bad. I could have been the fourth from the bottom for all I know."

"True." John reached over and squeezed Rodney's knee. "Next week, we'll be on top again."

"Or maybe you'll be."

"You're an amazing designer. You're gonna be in the top four, easy."

"Maybe."

John squeezed again. "Want to grab something to eat?"

"Yeah, sure," Rodney said, climbing to his feet a minute later. He could always eat and the food had been really good so far. Whoever they had catering the food actually knew how to cook. After filling up their plates, they found a quiet spot to sit. The contestants still waiting to hear their fate filed in shortly after.

"So," Rodney said quietly, glancing at the group as they meandered to the food. "Who do you think is out?"

"If there is a God, it will be Steve or Kavanagh. Not only are they both pricks, neither one of them can design worth a damn."

"Maybe Chaya. Then she won't be here to hang on you."

"Even better." John tried to edge a little behind Rodney so she wouldn't spot him. "That girl just can't get a clue."

"You're too big to hide behind me. I know I’m fat, but still. Your hair will not be contained."

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"It," he said wiggling his fingers as he gestured, "stands up."

"I have cowlicks. They are untamable, so I gave up trying. I even tried shaving my head once, to see if it would grow back normal."

"Is that what you call them?"

John made a face. "You don't like my hair?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you like it then." John's face lit up with a smile.

"I didn't say that either."

"You can't like it and not like it at the same time."

"Why not?" Rodney felt the corner of his mouth twitching up into a half smile.

"Well... because."

"That's not a very thought out response."

John grinned. "Will you accept 'because I said so'?"

"No. I don't think I will."

"Hmm. How about, you have to like it because you like me?"

"No. I think I might be a little bit ambivalent about your hair."

"Oh? Why is that?"

Rodney shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't found a use for it yet, maybe. Or maybe I'm frightened that you might be hiding small woodland creatures in it."

"Hmm, well there's only one way, really, for you to find any of that out. You'll have to run your fingers through it a few times."

"And get my fingers bitten off? I don't think so."

"I promise, I don't bite."

"And you say that like it's a good thing."

"Mmm, well, I make no promises about anything except my hair. It doesn't bite."

Rodney tilted his head, and smirked a little as he examined the wild mess of hair on top of John's head. "No. I don't think it's safe."

"What if I guarantee your safety?"

"Hmm. I'm not sure I'm that adventurous. I didn't sign up for a safari expedition."

"What's life without a little risk now and then?"

"I don't do suicide missions."

"Ahh, but this isn't a suicide mission. Would I carry vicious animals in hair I wanted people to touch?"

"You might. You might have a strange kink for blood play or something."

John made a face. "That's one I'm not in to, so no worries there."

"Or maybe the vicious woodland creatures living in your hair are just waiting to give some unsuspecting person a rare, but deadly, disease."

John moved closer, and before Rodney knew it, he had grabbed his hand and put it on his head. John's hair was surprisingly soft—Rodney would have bet money he used some kind of styling products to get it that way. "See. Nothing to be afraid of."

John let go of his hand and Rodney couldn't help but run his fingers through John's hair, his hand curving around to cup the back of his head. This was really dangerous.

John made a soft, happy noise and leaned into it. "God, I love that. It feels awesome."

Rodney shifted closer, gently stroking and rubbing. John seemed to melt into the stool he was on.

Rodney licked his lips as his other hand gently rested on John's knee, steadying himself as he continued to explore John's hair.

"Mmmmmm. I could sit here forever if you keep doing that."

"Don't tempt me."

"I am so tempting you."

Rodney leaned in and whispered in John's ear. "I'm going to have to go in the bathroom to jerk off if this keeps up."

John moaned softly. "Oh, god, yes, lets."

"No. We can't."

"Why not?" John's eyes slitted open, and Rodney could see how aroused the other man was.

"Because we're waiting."

"So? We don't have to go back out there."

"Waiting," Rodney said, licking the edge of John's ear before pulling back completely, trying to talk himself down.

John's whole body visibly shuddered. "Want you."

"I know."

"This is going to kill me."

"You're the one who started it," Rodney said, shifting back a few more inches.

"Mmm. Maybe. But I also want to finish it."

"Later."

"Promise?"

"I thought this was all still part of the…debate."

John groaned. "Kill. Me."

"Then you automatically lose the debate."

"So what will it take to win it, then?"

"Guess you'll have to stick around to find out, won't you?" Rodney said with a smirk as he climbed off the stool and headed back to the food table to get a bottle of water.

Radek was pacing nearby. "Now I know how John felt in the last contest, yes?"

"What did they say?"

"From the comments, myself, Evan and Daniel are in the running for winning, and the others were... not very well received. It is up in the air, I believe, as to who will go."

"Some of those green monstrosities were…pretty frightening."

Radek rolled his eyes. "Had I known so many others would go for that color, I would have chosen another. I did not think when I created my design, I merely thought that color would flow well with the shape I had in mind."

"Green fabric for a green challenge. Very original. And here I actually thought you were smarter than the rest of them for a minute," Rodney snorted.

"As I said, I did not think. My mind was on the natural elements I was trying to evoke. My inspiration was a bit of moss that the fabric I used matched exactly."

"It was obvious you weren't thinking," Rodney huffed. "I'm sure you did fine."

Radek sighed. "It would be nice to win."

"It is nice," Rodney said with a sigh, remembering how it felt. But that was three challenges ago.

Radek rolled his eyes. "You cannot win all challenges."

"Why not? I'm certainly the best designer here so it's not out of the question."

"You are good, yes, but I do not believe any of us are 'best'. If you talk like that, you will begin to sound like Kavanagh."

"I will never sound like him. My voice doesn't go that high and whiney."

"Perhaps. But it is his arrogance that annoys me."

Rodney huffed. "Everything about him annoys me."

"True, but that is the worst trait."

"I'm not so sure about that," Rodney said after a moment's thought. "Are there really levels of horribleness?"

Radek rolled his eyes again. "Just do not proclaim yourself better than all others. You are very good, but everyone has days when they shine, and days when they do not."

"Whatever," Rodney said making his hand do the 'talky-talky' gesture at Radek.

The producers chose that moment to walk in to get those who needed to go back out there. "Wish me luck."

"You'll be fine," Rodney said, moving back toward the couch and John.

Those who were left were, like them, fairly quiet, waiting to hear what the results were. John hadn't moved much from where Rodney had left him. "Bastard. If I twitch wrong I'm going to come in my pants. And I really don't want to do that on national television."

Rodney smirked at John. "That could be fun."

"Hmph."

"Come on. The couch is more comfortable," Rodney said, gesturing to the overstuffed sofa in the corner.

"You're trying to set me off, aren't you?" John did get up though, and follow Rodney.

"Me?"

"Evil. I like that."

"Well, I'm an evil genius. Didn't you know that?" Rodney asked, dropping onto the couch.

"I'm beginning to see." John sat down next to him so their sides were almost pressed together. "I'm going to have to play dirtier if I want to keep up."

"Maybe." Rodney offered a smile. "So…who's going home?"

"Out of the three, no idea." John's hand strayed a little more toward Rodney's groin.

Rodney smacked John's hand. "You have to have an opinion."

John grinned. "I'll be happy with any of them, to be honest. But I think Kavanagh's was the worst."

"Actually, I think Chaya's was the worst—and not because she wants to get into your pants, either."

Chuckling, John nodded. "They were both pretty hideous."

"Was she trying to get a sympathy vote because she tried to make it look like Kermit was walking down the runway?"

John started to choke on the drink he had just taken a sip of as he tried to swallow and laugh at the same time.

Rodney glanced away, smiling proudly. Daniel walked back into the room a few moments later, offering a shrug. "I'm here another week."

John managed to get his voice back. "But hey, you were top three this week!"

"Actually, I don't know where I was. I'm just not out there."

Daniel wandered off, and John bumped Rodney's shoulder. "Who do you think will win?'

"Your boyfriend, probably," Rodney said.

"You?"

Rodney scowled. "No. Lorne."

John rolled his eyes. "Lorne's not the one I'm close to coming in my pants for."

"Today. That was two days ago."

"He's nice looking, yes. And it probably would have been good sex. But you... you're different somehow and I wish I knew what it was."

"And my vote for your boyfriend, stands. His was better—in terms of construction and overall design."

"Stop calling him that. But yeah, he was pretty driven on this one. I think he really wants to sleep with the guest judge."

"Why? You'd rather I call him your boy toy?"

"Or, you know, you could just use his name."

Rodney shifted, turning to look at John, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Why?"

"Because he's not the one I'm interested in."

"Today."

"I wanted you from the first time I saw you. I just didn't think you'd be interested."

Rodney smirked at him a little. "But I can't make it too easy for you, can I?"

"Hmph." John bumped his shoulder again.

Lorne strolled in next, walking on air.

"Told you your boy toy would win," Rodney whispered.

John shot him a look, but got up to congratulate Lorne with everyone else.

"So who's left? Chaya, Radek, and the two Wraiths right?"

Rodney nodded. "Chaya's out for sure. I think Piggy is going to sue her for patent infringement, too."

John snickered.

Steve and Kavanagh walked in next. Chaya and Radek were the only two left and Rodney knew how that was going to pan out.

Sure enough, Chaya came storming back in, and Radek looked relieved.

They headed back to the apartment tired and wired at the same time. Rodney headed to the kitchen, pulling a beer out of the fridge to try and see if the alcohol would help to calm his nerves.

John seemed more relaxed since he wasn't running from Chaya anymore, but he still stuck fairly close to Rodney.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, when John hovered next to him, their arms nearly touching.

"What do you mean?"

"You're…hovering."

"Am I?"

"Yes," Rodney nodded, taking a sip of his beer. "Are you stalking me?"

"Not intentionally. Do you want me to leave you alone?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you brought it up."

"I bring a lot of things up."

"I've noticed that."

"So. Lorne's celebrating," Rodney said, watching as the hard liquor came out. Radek had been hiding it somewhere in the bedroom apparently.

"Yeah. I'm going to laugh when they're all hammered tomorrow. The producers hinted that we might start the next round without a break day."

"It's already seven," Rodney said checking his watch against the clock on the wall. "When do they expect to tell us this?"

"No idea. It was just a vibe I got off them as we left. So I'm staying sober tonight."

"Not even one?" he asked, holding up his Molson.

"Well, one won't get me drunk."

"There's some in the fridge. We can walk upstairs to the roof deck is you want. It was still nice out."

John reached around Rodney—brushing their bodies together—to grab a beer. "I'm right behind you."

Rodney chuckled, gently shoving John out of the way as he headed for the door. "Somehow I don't think they'll notice we're gone."

"No, they won't." John squeezed Rodney's ass as they walked. "They're all too busy getting drunk."

"Hey!" he complained, squirming out of John's way as they headed to the elevator.

"You have a perfect ass. You can't expect me to keep my hands off entirely."

"We're supposed to be waiting, you know."

"Grabbing your ass doesn't violate that rule when it's clothed. If it was a naked ass, then I could see your point."

"Oh, so there are rules?" Rodney asked, as he smirked a little as they stepped into the elevator. John hit the top button before walking him back into the corner.

"Only the ones you put between us." And then his lips were on Rodney's not nearly as soft or tentative as they had been the last two times.

Trapped in the corner, Rodney could only groan, squirming against the wall and trying not to rub up against John—even though he really, really wanted to.

When the elevator dinged, John pulled back, gave Rodney a cocky grin, and sauntered out onto the roof.

Cursing to himself, Rodney attempted to straighten his rumpled clothes and hide his erection with his beer bottle as he followed behind a few moments later. John led him to the outside deck, picking a quiet spot in the corner overlooking lower Manhattan.

"The city really is beautiful, isn't it? Especially up here, where you just get the big picture without all the little details like honking horns and wild taxis to detract from it."

Rodney settled down on the outdoor couch, eager to hide his body's reaction. "It's a city."

John put an arm around Rodney's shoulders. "And I think the view up here rivals the view out there."

"Okay…now that was a line."

John chuckled. "Yes, but did it work?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rodney said, huffing a little. He took a sip of his beer as he leaned a little more heavily against John.

John hummed softly and pulled him in closer. Rodney felt him start to nibble softly along his neck.

"John," he protested—his voice a little more breathy than he thought it should be. "What are you doing?"

"Tasting you."

"I thought you had beer."

"You taste better."

"We're both Canadian."

"You still taste better." John nibbled his way up to Rodney's ear, where his tongue dipped inside briefly.

Rodney shivered, holding back a moan. He didn't remember the last time he'd done this, felt like this.

"I want to do this to your entire body. Take my time with you, learn every curve, every spot that makes you gasp and moan." It was whispered in Rodney's ear.

"God," he whispered, shuddering as John's hand skimmed down his side, sliding around to his stomach.

"When you're ready for me, when you trust that I won't hurt you, I plan to strip you out of your clothes one layer at a time. I plan to take you so high, you'll think you're flying."

"Killing me."

"Mmmm, but when you are ready, it will be worth the wait."

Rodney turned his head and catching caught John's mouth in a kiss. John let him lead this time and kissed Rodney back gently.

He wanted…really wanted John right now.

It was John who pulled back. "Not until you're really ready. I have a feeling you're addictive and I'm not going to want to stop having you once I start. I want you to be sure you want to try something more than just a fling."

Rodney groaned, and shifted back a few inches. They had to wait. They had challenges and money to win. John was a fellow contestant. But…god.

John shifted, and Rodney caught a glimpse of the bulge in his jeans. John was hard. For him.

Rodney put his hand on John's chest, trying to steady himself, calm himself. He wanted…god, he hadn't wanted something like this in so long. It was like a desperate need—like air or food. "You are so dangerous," he finally managed to say, the words rough and low.

John sucked in a breath. "I... yeah. You, too. I... you're like an addiction. I can't stop thinking about you, wanting you..."

"We can't…can't do this."

"I know. Not until the end of the competition at least." John's eyes were filled with heat. "But after that, all bets are off."

Rodney licked his lips, nodding. It was hard to shift away from John, but he did, trying desperately to hold himself back.

John took a long swallow of his beer. "Until then, I can't promise to keep my hands entirely to myself. I want you too much to hide it completely."

"I don't know if I'll be able to stop if we start again."

"No, I won't let it go this far again. I know I won't be able to stop if I start kissing you again. But touching, flirting... those I won't stop. I can't."

"The next few weeks are going to suck."

"And not in a good way." John's eyes danced with both arousal and humor.

Rodney groaned and shifted on the couch. "Don't even talk about blow-jobs. God."

John's chuckle was husky.

"I'm serious. It won't take much for me right now."

"Mmmm. Good to know."

Rodney raised his eyebrow, not liking the look on John's face. "What?"

"Could you come, right now, without me touching you?"

"John!" Rodney hissed and pressed his hand down into his groin, trying not to think of what John's hand would feel like on him, about how John's voice just turned him on.

"Mmmm, you could, couldn't you? You could come right now, up here in the moonlight. Just imagining what my hands would feel like on our body, my mouth kissing you all over..."

"God, no…come on. These are my only clean jeans."

John hummed. "They have dry cleaning for us."

"My skin is very sensitive. I chafe easily."

John chuckled again. "Another day. I think, once I can have you, we're going to have a lot of fun."

"Another day, what? What do you mean?" Rodney asked, trying desperately to talk himself down, to distract himself from the nearly overwhelming need to climax.

"I can imagine a day when it's just us. Maybe we're out somewhere, or maybe we're sharing a workspace and building a collection together. I'd touch you lightly all day, kiss you at random times, whisper dirty things in your ears. Until you had no choice but to come, standing there."

Rodney's breath caught in his throat as his mind painted the picture for him. Working side-by-side with John in a loft-style building, brick on the walls, John's hands on his body. He licked his lips, pressing down a little harder, the extra sensation making him tremble.

"You'd tremble through what would be an amazing orgasm. We'd have extra pants on hand, maybe we each keep a couple extra sets of clothes there just in case, so you have to go change. The rest of the day, you would want to be irritated with me for it, but it felt too good, and your body would be all loose and pleasure-soaked."'

"John…" he whispered, closing his eyes, not sure what he wanted, what he was asking for.

"That night, I'd take you home and we'd have a sensual candlelit dinner. Then I'd take you back into a huge bedroom that we shared and strip you slowly out of your clothes, kissing and touching every bit of skin as it was revealed."

Rodney opened his eyes only long enough to lean forward, taking John's head in his hands as he pressed his lips to John's again, desperately needing and wanting to taste him again. John opened up for him, kissing him back with as much passion as Rodney was giving.

Rodney came just like that, his fingers threaded through John's hair, his mouth on John's. He groaned into the kiss as his body shook through his climax.

John's kiss gentled as Rodney came down off his high, bringing him down slowly and letting him savor it. He ended up resting his forehead on John's shoulder as his breathing slowly eased.

John was petting him, running one hand up and down his back while the other held Rodney close. Lips pressed, every now and then, against the top of his head.

Rodney was relaxed, very relaxed, and a bit embarrassed at his body's reaction, at his own need.

"God, that was hot."

"Can't believe you made me come in my pants. My only clean pants."

"I repeat—hot. Very, very hot."

"Pants are now very dirty."

"You can give them to the producers with your other laundry to be cleaned. They'll be good as new."

"But I have no pants in the meantime."

"Hmmm. I'd suggest going pantless, but that would be more selfish than anything."

Rodney leaned back, taking in John's smirk. He scowled back in return, shifting on the couch and feeling the dampness. Ugh. "My pants are soaked."

Instead of answering, John moved in to claim Rodney's mouth again, this time slower, more... sweet in a way.

He shivered, letting John set the pace before the other man finally leaned back, breaking the kiss.

"God, you taste so fucking good..."

"And you made me come in my pants."

John hummed.

"Evil." Rodney pressed a quick kiss to John's lips. "I'm going to chafe."

"But it was worth it, wasn't it?" John licked along the seam of Rodney's mouth.

"Well, I'm certainly more relaxed than I was ten minutes ago."

"I can't wait to get you naked, where I can really make you fly."

Rodney snorted. "We'll see. Maybe when we actually have more time I won't come in my pants."

Rodney could feel John's chuckle this time, feel the warmth of his breath along Rodney's neck.

"We should probably go back downstairs," Rodney said after a few minutes when he felt his body ramping back up a little.

"Why? No one is going to notice we're not there."

"If we have a challenge tomorrow, we need to get some sleep."

"Probably." John's arms tightened around him a little. "But I have to admit, I'm comfortable."

"You like me damp?" Rodney asked, his voice rising a little.

"No. I like you in my arms."

Rodney snorted again, settling against John. He didn’t want to admit that he liked being here, too.

Lips pressed against his temple again.

This was…nice. Too nice. But right now, Rodney was in no mood to complain or move because knowing his luck, this wouldn't last so he wanted to remember every detail while he had the chance.

After a while, he felt John shiver a little. The night air was starting to cool down, especially up here, where they were getting a breeze.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, shifting in John's arms.

"Getting a little cold. How about you?"

Rodney slowly let out a breath, thinking about John's question. His back was sore. He was damp. But he also didn't want to move. "Okay."

John's smile was soft in the moonlight. "I don't want to move. I could stay here all night, cold or not."

"Do we really want them to come up here and find us with the cameras?"

"Probably not. This... this isn't for the public. It's for us."

"We've been up here for a long time. I hope they didn't lock us out of the apartment."

"Want to head back down? We can see about finding you pants for tomorrow."

Rodney sighed. "Not really, but we probably should."

"I know how you feel." John's mouth found his again for another brief kiss.

"Mmm," Rodney hummed into the kiss, pressing John back.

"Keep that up," John panted between kisses, "and we'll never make it back down."

"Mmm? Problem?" he whispered as he took a breath. He could do this for hours.

John's hips shifted, and Rodney could feel that he was hard.

"Want something?"

With a moan, John ground his hips up against Rodney's body.

"What was that?" Rodney asked with a grin. "Did you need something?"

"You just... just want to... get even with me..."

"Not necessarily," Rodney said, pulling back entirely. "We should go downstairs."

John whimpered softly, but nodded. "Yeah. I'll be having some serious fantasies when I jerk off in the shower later though."

Rodney rolled his eyes, but offered a soft smile. "Will they be able to hold you for a while?"

"Not for long, but for now." John kissed him again.

Rodney didn't push it this time—even though he wanted to—letting John end the kiss easily, softly.

"Later. When this is all over, we're going to go somewhere with room service and no interruptions or cameras."

"Room service is a requirement."

Humming, John got slowly to his feet and held a hand down to help Rodney up, too.

He climbed to his feet, scowling as his pants shifted, the damp—and now rough fabric—rubbing against his sensitive parts. "Oh…great. This is embarrassing," he said, trying to tug the fabric away from his skin.

"I'd offer to soothe it for you, but I'm pretty sure that wouldn't actually help the situation any."

"Yeah, no. Would probably make too many other…problems."

"Come on. I think there might be a washer and dryer in the bathroom. It might work to just toss your pants in by themselves to get them clean enough to wear until the rest of your laundry comes back."

"You think? And did you get the better bedroom?" Rodney asked, letting John lead him—slowly—back down to the apartment. It was quiet. The door was thankfully left open for them. There was a single light on in the kitchen, the one under the cabinets, giving just enough light for them so they didn't trip over anything.

The note on the fridge told them all they needed to know.

"Cars leave at 6:30. You were 'busy'."

John sighed. "So there will be a challenge tomorrow. That sucks. I was hoping for a day off."

"Me, too," Rodney said, tugging his pants away from his crotch. "Okay. I need to find clothes, then."

"Let's see if we can wash those first."

"And how to you expect to do that? Dunk me in the shower?"

"Washing machine. Take them off and I'll go toss them in."

"What washing machine? We don't have one of those. And what do you propose I wear now?"

John grinned. "Just take them off and trust me."

"It's not like I missed my boxers when I…well…" Rodney glanced around. "You know."

"So go grab a pair of clean boxers and I'll wash those with your pants."

"I can't go in there smelling like sex!" he hissed.

"Why not?"

"Because that's the last thing I need. It's bad enough I have to room with them, but Steve doesn't sleep at night and he likes to stare."

John made a face. "Okay, that guy is seriously creepy. Well, come with me and you can sit in our bathroom then while I wash your stuff."

"We're back down to the whole…naked thing."

"Well, I can't wash your clothes with you still in them."

Rodney sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have let you do this to me."

"But it was worth it, wasn't it?'

"Maybe."

"Just maybe?" John sidled up to him, rubbing his body along Rodney's side.

"Hello! No clean clothes!"

"Which I can fix if you'll take them off."

"But then I'll be naked!"

"And the problem with that is...?"

Rodney looked at him with wide open eyes. How could he not see the obvious issue. "Hello! Naked!"

"Hello, you're hot. You can get naked in the bathroom where I'm the only one who will see you. Hell, if it bothers you that much, you can just go lock yourself in our bathroom until your clothes are done."

"And what if someone needs to get in there? What then?"

"Everyone else is already in bed."

"I don't just strip naked for anyone."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't! Because it's not an option, never been an option!" Rodney said, his voice rising. "And why are we arguing about this?"

John sighed. "Go ahead and go lock yourself in the bathroom. The washer is in the closet."

Rodney was going to argue the point about John getting the better bedroom and bathroom again, but the look on his face stopped him in his tracks, snapping his jaw shut with a click. He nodded instead, walking carefully toward John's bedroom where he pointedly ignored the not-sleeping people in the room.

He found one of those stacked units where John had told him to look, along with a couple packs of single-use detergent and dryer sheets.

He stripped out of all his clothes, throwing them all into the washer and fixed the dials, pushing "on" a few moments later. He ended up standing in the middle of the bathroom stark naked and wondering what he was going to do for the next hour.

Sighing, he tugged a towel from the closet and wrapped it around him as best as he could, whatever happy feelings he'd had up on the roof deck completely replaced by the feeling of wrongness and guilt. He shouldn't have yelled at John, argued with him. But then, he was good at screwing up his life so it shouldn't have been a surprise.

***

John wasn’t quite sure what to make of Rodney’s reluctance to be naked, but he did his best to shrug it off. When the other man finally emerged from the bathroom, redressed and all clean, it was late, so they both headed off to bed.    

Morning came way too fast. They were shuffled off to a small boutique in the Fashion District that, from the look of it, was pretty upscale. Tim Gunn met them, as usual, and gave them their challenge: Buttons and Ribbons.

"Ribbons, once only affordable by the nobility of the French society in the 17th century, are now experiencing renewed interest," said Tim. "Not only are they beautiful to behold, wonderful to use as embellishments, and sensuous to the touch, ribbons are also used to express emotions and feelings of pride, reward accomplishments and excellence, and provide opportunities for hours of creative expression."

Turning to the man next to him, Tim smiled at them. "Designers, this is Claude Offray, Jr., president of Offray and Son Inc., and the grandson of the man who founded the company in 1876. He will be our guest judge this week."

"You have a special challenge this week," Claude said, his accent thick. "You will be working to create garments out of ribbons and buttons—no fabric."

They all looked around at each other. Damn, no fabric. That was going to be tough.

Tim looked around at them. "Behind me, you'll see canvas bags, along with a veritable mountain of ribbons and buttons. You'll have five minutes to gather as much as you can, and then we'll be heading back to the workroom where you'll have two days to design and execute your visions."

"Create something that really shows your style, your own unique point of view," Claude said.

"All right designers. On your marks, get set, go!" Tim waved them all forward, and it was a mad dash as they all grabbed two or three of the canvas bags, and started stuffing anything and everything they could get their hands on inside them.

John grabbed and shoved, trying to get ribbons and buttons that matched in some universe. It was hard, though. The damn stuff was slippery and people kept grabbing the other end and pulling it out of his hands.

When Tim called time, he had no clue what he had ended up with. He had managed to fill three of the bags with stuff, and it looked like that was the average amount people had grabbed.

Rodney was off on the other side, seemingly staying as far away from him as possible. He just didn't understand him sometimes. Okay. Most of the time.

Rodney managed to get into a car that was pretty much full already, so John couldn't even ride back with him to the workroom. It wasn't a long drive, fortunately, and as soon as they arrived, everyone started dumping out their bags on their tables, sorting through what they had grabbed.

What was he going to make? That was really the question. He had all sorts of types of ribbons: different sizes and colors and fabrics. Some were matte, some were satin and super shiny. The buttons…were a mess. He had fancy ones and plain shirt buttons.

He started by sorting them loosely into color groups. That would at least give him some ideas of what he could do.

Or at least help him to spark some kind of idea in his head of what to do with all of this ribbon.

He finally settled on doing a weave of ribbons to serve as the base for a dress. He had managed to get ribbons in a wide variety of metallic colors, so he would use those to create a really glam sort of look. The buttons he would use as his accents, to really give the piece a unique feel.

Rodney was quiet, working with his head down at the workstation next to him. Cadman and Lorne were chatting up a storm two tables over and there was some soft conversation in the other parts of the room.

John tuned everything out and got to work. Two days wasn't a lot of time to create the kind of look he was going for.

He stopped only long enough to eat and drink something and pee—twice—working diligently to get the ribbon to do what he wanted. He had to baste some of it in place because it kept slipping and driving him crazy.

By the end of the day, he had a general idea of what he wanted, and it was on its way. He would have to really work hard tomorrow to get it done, but it was going to look really cool. As they all filed out, he fell into step beside Rodney. "Hey."

Rodney glanced up, surprise on his face before the expression switched to confusion and then to embarrassment. "Oh. Hi."

"Did I piss you off? You haven't looked at me all day."

"What?" Rodney asked, eyes widening. "No, of course not. We're both…busy men…busy working."

"Uh huh. So why are you avoiding me all the sudden?"

"I'm not," he said, but glanced away as they stepped into the elevator.

John sighed. He had hoped Rodney wouldn't run scared. He wished he knew what to do to fix this. He had never really wooed anyone before.

"So…ah…your garment looks good so far," John said, attempting to keep the conversation going.

"Thanks. So does yours. It's going to be a bitch getting it all done it time."

"I don't think I'll ever use ribbon again. Ever," he said, letting out a quiet sigh of relief when the elevator doors opened.

"Yeah. It's definitely an... interesting challenge." John smiled at him.

"The judges must be grasping at straws to come up with this nightmare."

"Or they just get a kick out of torturing us."

"Oh, I know that's part of it," Rodney said, shoving open the outside door. He bee-lined to the waiting cars.

This time, John stuck close enough to him that he was able to snag the seat right next to Rodney, their legs pressing together.

Rodney shifted a few times, almost like he was trying to move away from him, but there was so where he could go so he simply settled down. Elizabeth and Sam filed in behind them and they were off moments later.

John half-listened to the girls chatting about the contest. They were both enjoying it. It was like ribbons filled some deep-seated need in women.

Rodney's head was turned, staring out the window as they rode through the city, the streetlights and shop lights bright against the darkness.

When they got back to the apartments, Rodney disappeared almost immediately into his bedroom. John fought the urge to chase him down. He knew it wouldn't help anything.

Radek and Lorne were in the second group that arrived back in the apartment, taking about the challenges and the contestants as they walked in.

John waved at them from where he had collapsed into one of the couches with a beer. "How's this one going for you guys? I was so busy trying to figure out what to do for this one, I didn't get much of a chance to look around."

Radek headed into the kitchen, while Lorne walked into the living room, dropping into a chair. "It's hard to work with the ribbon," he said. "I never realized how much the damn stuff moves."

"Oh god, yes." John made a face. "Every time I get it just where I want it, the damn stuff just slides away again."

"Radek got lucky," Lorne said with a rueful smile. "He got mostly fabric ribbon."

"Nice. I ended up with a lot of metallics. Which is going to look amazing if I can get it done, but is seriously going to give me an ulcer while I work on it."

"Rodney looks like he got a lot of blues. How he managed that, I'll have no idea," Lorne said with a chuckle as Radek walked into the room handing him a beer. "And where is he?"

"He headed to bed as soon as we walked in. Said he needed a shower and to pass out so he'd be ready for tomorrow." John shrugged.

"So what's up with you two?" Lorne asked with a smile.

John gave a frustrated huff. "I have no idea. I know we're both really interested, and last night was a good step in the right direction, but then today, he's avoiding me as much as possible."

"So you…" Radek said, his hands making obscene gestures, "up on roof?"

John made a face. "No. Not until after this is all over. I hope."

"But I thought," Radek said, turning toward Lorne. "Did not Vala tell us last night…"

John rolled his eyes. "Vala was up there? God, no wonder everyone thought we were being wild. No, we... cuddled I guess you could call it... and made out a bit, but that was all."

"Yeah. She dragged Daniel up there, but found her spot already occupied," Lorne said with a smile. "So, what's the problem?"

"I have no idea, and that's what's so frustrating." John sighed, taking a sip of his beer. "We're both interested, really interested. As in, I've started thinking about what it would be like after all this is over. But then he just... I have no idea."

"Cold feet," Radek said, nodding. "Must get him warmer socks."

"I don't know. It's frustrating. I should walk away, but I... can't. He's like crack, and I'm the addict."

Radek rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his beer. Lorne laughed at him. "Does he seem…interested?" he asked a few moments later once his laughter died off.

John nodded. "Yeah, I think really interested. But... scared too. Like he's convinced I'm going to turn on him at any given moment."

"Well, you are contestant and this is big stakes," Radek said. "I do not think any of us take this lightly."

"No, I know. All of us are here to win. But I would never want to win by sabotaging someone else. I want any wins of challenges or even the whole thing to be because I legitimately earned it. But Rodney seems to think I'm just waiting for a chance to betray him. I can understand that he wants to wait until this is all over to do anything more than a little making out, but..."

"But you want it now." It wasn't a question.

John shrugged. "The analogy of an addict isn't far off of the way I feel. But I'm also not without self-control."

"So why did Rodney barricade himself in bathroom last night?"

"He needed to use the washing machine and didn't want anyone to see him naked."

Radek sprayed beer all of the living room as he laughed.

John's lips twitched, then he sobered. "I get the feeling someone hurt him, badly, at some point in the past. And not just a bad relationship--we've all had those."

"Did I tell you about Cindy?" Lorne asked, taking a sip of his beer. "She was the stalker chick from hell."

"No. Who was she?"

"Girlfriend. A few years ago. I met her at an art show of a friend. She was great. Wild in bed. But then she started getting weird."

"Weird how?" John leaned back in his chair, interested. While he had realized he and Lorne were never going to hook up, he was still a great-looking guy, and very interesting to talk to.

"Clingy. Demanding. But in a weird way. She'd stay over and the next day I'd find my caller ID directory wiped clean. She programmed all her stuff into my DVR and deleted my programs. She's started wearing this gold band on her finger, too. One of my neighbors complained to me at one point that I hadn't invited her to the wedding."

"Holy shit."

"It gets better. I went to take money out of the bank one day—and mind you, we weren't living together regularly, just a few times a week she'd stay over—and the account had been made into a joint account."

Radek blinked. "How was this possible without your knowledge or signature?"

"I don't know and the bank didn't know either. I immediately changed all my accounts and she was in my apartment screaming at me that night."

"Had she actually taken anything out of the account before you discovered what she had done?"

"A few hundred dollars," Lorne said with a sigh. "It wasn't too bad. But I broke it off with her that night and more or less threw her out of the apartment. I had a locksmith in the next day and changed all the locks. Then she started showing up at work, at the nearby Starbucks, at my dry cleaner, supermarket… You get the idea."

John shook his head. "How did you end up getting rid of her for good?"

"Well, after the two restraining orders, she was eventually picked up by the cops and she freaked on them. They sent her to the mental hospital. I think she's still there."

Radek and John both shook their heads in disbelief. "Wow."

"Yeah," Lorne said, rubbing his hand over his head, messing up his hair. "It took a while before I could even start trusting anyone again."

"After that, I don't blame you." John shook his head. "Were you always bi, or was that a big factor toward being more interested in men than women?"

"Well it certainly convinced me that women were crazy, if that's what you're getting at."

Chuckling, John and Radek both grinned. It was Radek who shook his head. "Not all, but I am happy you do not look at them that way. This leaves more for me, yes?"

"You can have them all," Lorne said with a smile and chuckle.

John nodded. "Yup. I'll stick to the other side of the spectrum."

"Me, too. Men tend to be less…crazy. At least the ones I'm attracted to," Lorne said. "But I hate to tell you, McKay's not exactly the perfect partner by a long shot."

John sighed. "I know. He's not... easy. I wish I knew why I'm so drawn to him, but I can't walk away. Something about him just... it calls to me, I guess."

"Well, his ass certainly does," Lorne said with a smirk.

"That, too. The man is seriously hot and doesn't know it."

"I can't stop staring at it when he's strutting in front of me," Lorne said with a far-away look. "I just want to sink into it. It's just so…"

John was a little surprised to hear someone growling. And even more surprised to realize it was him. He forced himself to stop, and flushed bright red.

Lorne was staring at him. "I didn't say I was going to do anything, just that his ass was conducive to…lots of things."

John felt himself go even hotter. "I... I know. I'm sorry... I have no idea where that came from..."

"Possessive much?" Radek asked, smirking at him.

"I... I've never been before..." John was pretty sure his entire body was on fire at this point.

"First time for everything," Lorne said with a chuckle as he rose to his feet. "I'm headed to bed."

Radek and John finished their beers simultaneously and rose as well. "Yeah, it's going to be another long day tomorrow."

"A long day," Radek agreed with a nod. "Did annoying ones come back? I thought I heard door during Lorne's story."

"Probably." John rolled his eyes as they all went to their bedroom and collapsed into their beds. "I really hope the two of them are gone soon."

"Why? Because they are annoying or creepy?"

"Both." John grinned as Radek turned off the lights and crawled into bed. "Night, guys."

"I will dream of ribbons and asses," Radek said after a few minutes. "And it is all your fault."

John fell asleep laughing, which, all in all, wasn't a bad way to end the day.

***

Rodney didn't go to sleep for a long time even though he forced himself into the bed. He stayed there listening to the conversation in the living room. Kavanagh and Steve wandered into the bedroom not long after Rodney had stumbled into bed. He only wished he'd been asleep before they walked in so that way he wouldn't have had to fall asleep feeling Steve's eyes on him, staring at him.

The next morning he barely managed to stumble out of bed and down to the cars on time. He had so much work to do yet. He'd gotten a lot done yesterday—the whole bodice of the dress was done. He'd managed to weave the ribbons—almost like a basket weave—creating a unique blue-on-blue color palate that would eventually fan out mid-thigh to a soft and gentle flutter.

He still had to finish the top and decide if it was going to be strapless or not. He hadn't decided yet. But the bulk of it was done—and he was really grateful. Concentrating on his garment and not on John next to him had been a good plan.

Concentrating on John was never good and that night had been a mistake. He'd realized it in the bathroom afterward. It shouldn't have happened and he wouldn't let it happen again.

But John seemed determined not to be ignored. He managed to sit next to Rodney in the car ride over again, pressing their legs together.

Rodney just looked out the window—desperately in need of coffee and wishing he'd gotten up five minutes earlier so he could have had one cup—going over the design of his garment in his head. He knew what he wanted to do, could see it in his mind. He knew exactly what it would take for him to get it too look that way, too.

It was a knack he had. To be able to visualize a garment, completely, before he'd even started working. Each piece fit in perfectly with the next, forming a complete and perfect design.

They got to Parsons, and all headed upstairs, John staying close, but not pressing for conversation.

Rodney walked into the small kitchen first, grabbing a mug of coffee and sucking it down before he even stepped into the workroom, needing the caffeine to get his brain moving at genius speeds.

John had headed in to get to work, but before Rodney could join him, he was back, white as a sheet. "Ah, Rodney?"

"What?"

"You need to put that down and come in here. Now."

"What are you all worked up about? Tim's not going to be here for another few hours and I need to drink this is I have any hope in actually finishing my garment today."

"Rodney." John took his arm. "You need to come here now."

"What?" Rodney asked, letting John tug him along, something like nerves churning in the pit of his stomach.

John just led him in to the workroom and over to Rodney's station.

But even before they got there, Rodney knew, he knew there was something wrong. Terribly wrong. "No…no no no…this is…no…" he whispered harshly. His garment was gone, pieces of the blue ribbon he'd used littering the floor around his mannequin.

"I reported it to the producers already, and they're looking in to it. But we can fix this, Rodney. I promise."

Rodney leaned down, picking up a two inch square of his basket weave. One of the biggest pieces left. He rubbed his thumb over the silky ribbon just staring at it in his hands.

"I have a ton of ribbon in this color scheme. We can fix this."

"No," Rodney whispered softly, shaking his head. "No. This can't be fixed." His dreams of winning were crumbling around him. Rodney dropped the piece of garment, watching it float to the floor. He turned and walked out of the workroom, ignoring the whispers and the cameras.

John followed him, staying by his side. "We can fix it. I'll help you. Don't give up, Rodney. Please. I know we can fix this."

He pushed into the men's restroom, but John followed him. Thankfully, the cameras didn't.

John smoothed his hair and rubbed his back as Rodney lost everything he had had that morning—which thankfully wasn't much. "I promise, we'll fix it. I'll help you. Don't give up, Rodney. Please don't give up. You can win this whole thing, you're that good. Don't let someone's petty meanness take that away from you."

"I was almost done! It was…" his hands tried to form the words his mouth couldn't. The garment had been perfect, serene, sexy, flirty, and precise. "I can't start again. I can't."

"Then we'll make something else. I have extra ribbon. We can do the same weave you had going. With two of us working on it, we can get a lot done today."

"No, John, you can't…you…" Rodney looked up at the other man, his eyes wide. He didn't know what John saw in them but he only got this stubborn expression on his face.

"I will help you fix this. You're not going home because someone decided to try and fuck you over."

"But—"

"No buts. Come on, let's get you something to rinse out your mouth and go through all the ribbon we have. You can tell me which ones you want me to start weaving, while you figure out how to adapt your original design."

Rodney looked at John for a long minute before nodding weakly, letting John lead him from the bathroom and into the cameras. The hand on the back of his neck—thumb gently stroking the skin—helped calm him, helped him put on a strong face.

They grabbed a ginger ale from the beverage table, and then went back into the workroom. John grabbed a huge armful of ribbon and brought it over, spreading it out on Rodney's table.

Cadman, Lorne, and Radek appeared throughout the morning, listening to Rodney's carefully quiet words about what he needed and helping when they needed a break from their own garments.

It wasn't going to be the exact same vision he'd originally had, but with all the surprise help and support he was getting from his fellow contestants, it was possible to have something that would keep him out of the bottom. As the day came to a close, he realized John had spent all of it working on helping Rodney, his own garment still sitting in the exact same state it had been in the night before.

"John," Rodney said, gesturing toward John's workstation near the end of the day. "You need to work on your own stuff."

John shook his head. "I'll be fine. Don't worry. I'll throw something together to finish it in the morning."

"John, please."

"I'm almost done with this panel."

Rodney reached out, putting his hand over John's, stilling his movements. "Please, John. I need you to work on your stuff. You need to be here after tomorrow."

John looked like he was going to protest again, but finally nodded. "Holler at me if you need me to help with anything else, okay?"

"I will. I promise," Rodney said, trying to ignore the cameras that would not go away today.

John got up and wandered over to his station. He went right to work, piecing together something so he'd have a garment to send down the runway.

Rodney watched him work for several minutes before pulling his attention back to his own design, the scattered remains of his first attempt in a pile on the floor. His model had been surprised when she'd arrived in the middle of the day when he didn't have anything for her to try on, the garment still in its infancy.

When she had heard what happened, she had been horrified, too. While she didn't have any sewing skills, since she didn't have anything to try on, she had helped by sorting ribbon into the color schemes for John to weave.

He heard footsteps a few minutes later and looked up to find Tim headed toward him, a hard look on his face.

"Rodney, I heard what happened, and the producers are reviewing all the tapes to find out who did this."

"Reviewing the tapes is not going to help me."

"When we find who did this, they will be disqualified from the competition. We've never had anything like this happen, and we will not simply sit by and allow this kind of behavior. You'll also be immune from elimination this week."

Rodney sagged a little, glad he was leaning on the worktable. "And John?"

Tim nodded. "I'll be talking to him next. The amount of sportsmanship he's shown was very impressive. As a matter of fact, no one will be eliminated this week. Because of this situation, the person to go home will be the one responsible for this atrocity. We will still have the runway show and have a winner, but you and John will have immunity next week as well as the winner."

"Thank you," Rodney whispered, his eyes getting blurry for a minute. He was tired, that was it. Exhausted. He rubbed his eyes briskly, offering a smile to Tim. "Thank you. I just…"

Tim smiled at him. "It's been an exceptionally long day, I know."

Rodney nodded again.

"Take a deep breath, and finish whatever you want. As I said, we'll still have the runway show tomorrow, and the judges will give feedback, but your future on the show doesn't depend on it."

Rodney bobbed his head again, taking the breath Tim recommended. He watched at the man walked over to John's workstation, watching as they talked, watched the camera focus on John's face as he was told about his immunity.

He saw relief, but from the way he looked over, Rodney had a feeling most of his questions were centering on Rodney's own status, rather than his own.

"Just…say thank you, John," Rodney finally said after the third look.

John started slightly, and then smiled, nodding. "Thank you."

Tim stepped back, clapping his hands and announcing that the day was at an end. The security guard at the door only really drilled in the reality of the situation, of what had happened. They all filed out, John looking as drained as Rodney felt.

He stumbled into the elevator and then into a nearby car, not really seeing anything. When they got back to the apartment, people pushed food into his hands, making sure he ate. He may have even fallen asleep on the couch in the living room, head thrown back.

"Come on, Rodney. Let's get you to bed."

He startled awake, eyes flying open—no he was just resting his eyes, not sleeping—looking up into John's exhausted face. "What?"

"Bed. Come on. You can share mine tonight. I promise I won't bite, but I'd feel better knowing you're not in that room until we find out who did that to your garment."

He blinks a few times, not sure he heard what he thought he did. John wouldn't ask him to sleep with him. "Sorry. What?"

"I promise, I won't bite. Hell, I'll sleep on the floor if you want. I just don't... I really don't want you in there without any allies."

"What time is it?" is what Rodney asked instead, still trying to wrap his cotton-filled brain around the fact that John may have—with triple emphasis—may have asked him to sleep with him.

"Almost ten. Come on. Let's go to bed."

John didn't wait for him to answer, pulling him up onto his feet before he realized it and then they were on their way down the hall, passing Rodney's bedroom without missing a beat. "But…" he said, turning his head, looking behind.

"Look, I have some suspicions about who could have done that, and I really would feel better if you slept in our room tonight. I promise, I won't try anything funny."

John deposited him on the end of one of the beds. "But I need clothes."

"I'll get them for you. What do you need?"

"Clothes," Rodney repeated, still not awake.

"Wait here. I'll be right back."

Rodney blinked a few more times before letting his body lie back, collapsing on the bed. He may have closed his eyes because the next thing he knew John is back, hovering over him with concerned eyes, shaking him gently.

"Hey, buddy, let's get you into something more comfortable, and then I promise, I'll let you sleep, okay?"

"What? Okay."

He was barely aware of being stripped, a clean t-shirt pulled over his head before he was being tucked in under the covers. A body slid in behind him at some point later, pushing him gently toward the wall. "Mmm?"

"Sleep, Rodney."

He nodded once, letting exhaustion pull him down into darkness.

***

It was a little frightening how comfortable Rodney was in his arms. John fell asleep faster and slept harder than he ever had before with the other man in his bed. It was scary-right to have Rodney there.

He woke up before Rodney, and just enjoyed it while he could. He had a feeling Rodney would run away again after this, and John wanted to savor every moment until he woke up and they got up.

Instead of climbing out of bed for a run like he'd done most mornings, he stayed in bed. It was a luxury he hadn't allowed himself in a long time, but so, so worth it. Rodney smelled really good.

Rodney shifted in his sleep, huffing quietly against the pillow.

John nuzzled his nose into the curve of Rodney's neck, inhaling. Seriously. His own personal crack.

Rodney's breathing changed, pausing for a brief moment.

John wondered if that meant he was awake, or just getting a little aroused in his sleep. He shifted again, pressing back into John who was spooned up behind him.

Mmmm, awake then. John pressed his lips to the skin he was nuzzling.

This time John got a shiver and a low moan in response.

He wished they were alone in the room. Lorne and Radek were still sleeping, but John wasn't going to risk embarrassing Rodney by letting it go too far. Instead, he whispered in Rodney's ear. "Morning."

"Is that how you wake up every morning?"

"How's that?"

"All…sexy and raring to go?"

John smiled against Rodney's skin. "No. Only when I have a sexy guy in my arms."

Rodney snorted. "You sleep?"

"Better than I have in years. You?"

"Surprisingly your mattress didn't kill my back and no one smothered me, so I count that as a good night."

Humming, John pressed a kiss to Rodney's sleep-warmed skin.

"John…" Rodney said quietly. "We can't."

"I know. Doesn't stop me from enjoying you while I have you here though."

"There are people in the room."

"They're sleeping, and all I'll I'm doing is kissing your neck."

"But kissing always leads to necking and touching and sex."

"It doesn't have to, though. Sometimes, just kissing a little is nice."

"It's never just kissing," Rodney said quietly with a huff.

"It can be. I like kissing."

"Apparently. But we also know what this led to the other night."

John chuckled. "I know there are other people in the room, and I have no intention of embarrassing you. I'm just enjoying you here in my bed and my arms while I can."

Rodney was quiet for a few minutes as John gently kissed the back of his neck, his body warm against him. "Maybe…" he started, his voice a little breathy. "Maybe we can stay here when they all go."

"Mmmmm."

"You're going to kill me. You know that, right?"

"But what a way to go."

"Bastard," Rodney groaned, shifting back into John.

John hummed again, going back to the little spot he was enjoying the taste and smell of.

Rodney let him play for quite some time, shifting and squirming on the bed a little as John hit a few sensitive spots. When he finally heard someone else in the room stirring he backed off.

Even just laying there holding Rodney was... perfect. It was amazing how good it felt.

Someone got up and shuffled into the backroom a few minutes later and Rodney sighed quietly. "I guess that means we should get moving."

"Probably." John sighed, too. "I could stay here like this all day."

"Well, maybe not like this."

"No, there would be less clothing and more sex."

"Ohgodyes."

John grinned. "Soon. We'll spend days in bed together after the show is over. I promise."

"I should…" Rodney's hand waved a bit.

"I know." John made no move to get up.

"Um…can you…ah…close your eyes?"

John blinked. "Why?"

Rodney squirmed and John could see his cheeks flushing red. "Just…can you?"

John rolled his eyes, but closed them. "Okay, now what?"

"Are they closed?"

"Yes."

"Keep them closed until I tell you otherwise," Rodney said and then John felt him shifting on the bed, sliding out from under the covers and trying to climb over John's legs to get off the bed.

"Um, why are my eyes closed?"

"Just…keep them closed."

"Yeah yeah..."

John heard shuffling and a quiet curse before it quieted down again. "Okay," Rodney said, his voice sounding far away. "You can open your eyes now."

John opened them and immediately looked around.

Rodney was hiding—hiding!—behind the wall in the hallway. "Okay…I'm going to…" He pointed toward his room.

"Ah, why are you back there?"

"I'm going to get ready," he said instead, his cheeks still red.

"Why are you blushing? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! Nothing is wrong," he hissed, glancing around. "I just have…something…I need to do…take care of."

John raised an eyebrow and got up slowly, moving toward Rodney.

"No, no, no! Stay there."

John didn't listen, moving to where he could see Rodney, despite the other man's attempts to hide.

"John, come on," Rodney said, holding his clothes in front of himself. "I have to get ready."

Instead of giving in, John pulled the clothes aside to witness Rodney's erection. He hummed in approval.

"John…" Rodney protested—a little half-heartedly in John's opinion.

Looking around, John saw they were alone. He pressed Rodney backward into the bathroom and shut the door before going to his knees.

"Nonononono," he said, backing away until the counter stopped him.

John followed. "Let me."

"I can just take care of it in the shower."

"But then I won't get to taste you."

Rodney whimpered, his eyes dark as he looked down at John.

John took that as a yes, and pulled down Rodney's boxers enough for the thick, perfect cock to spring out. His mouth watered.

"OhgodJohn."

Licking his lips, John moved in. He went slow, savoring everything.

Rodney moaned above him, his hips jerking unconsciously as John sucked him.

God, Rodney tasted as good as he'd imagined.

It didn't take long before Rodney was tugging at his head, grabbing at his hair, trying to pull him off. "Gonna…John…gonna come…"

Instead of letting Rodney pull him off, John went deeper and sucked hard.

Rodney groaned and came, his body shuddering as he poured down John's throat. John got every last drop, sucking until Rodney started to shudder with the aftershocks. He let Rodney's cock slide from his mouth with a pop, looking up to see the wrecked face above him.

Licking his lips, John smiled. "You taste even better than I imagined you would."

"God…John…" Rodney whispered, his voice rough and low.

His eyes not leaving Rodney's face, John stood up slowly and pulled his own aching cock out of his boxers. He started stroking slowly.

"Oh…wow…" Rodney said, his eyes focused on John's hand.

Swallowing hard, John continued to touch himself. It was... more than a little arousing doing it in front of Rodney.

It took about two minutes before Rodney lurched forward, more or less sucking John's face as he mashed their mouths together.

Moaning, John let himself be ravished, even as his hand sped up. It was inelegant but god it was good.

John knew he was close, and he remembered how Rodney had felt about his own sperm on clothing, so he broke of the kiss quickly to grab a towel, coming into it seconds later. They panted as they came down, foreheads pressed together.

"God, if it was this good as a quickie, we're going to need some serious vitamins for when we get to the main event."

"Haven't…haven't done this in…long time," Rodney panted.

John hummed. "I'll fix that."

Rodney fell silent, his breathing leveling off after a few minutes. "So…I need to shower."

"Yeah. Me, too." John didn't move.

"We shouldn't be in here together. People will get…ideas…well, more ideas."

"So?"

"Just…" Rodney sighed quietly. "Shower?"

"Yeah." John smiled at him.

"So?"

"Oh, I guess that means I need to move, huh?"

"Or something," Rodney said with a shrug.

John leaned in to capture Rodney's mouth in a quick kiss.

He moaned, following John as he pulled away. "I never thanked you for helping yesterday."

John shrugged. "I wanted to help. You deserve to be here, and not go home because someone was jealous of your talent."

"Still. You could have gone home, too, if they hadn't been so understanding. You're better than that."

"I'd rather me go home for trying to help you, than you go home because of sabotage."

"No. You deserve a chance to win. You shouldn't throw it all away because you want to get into my pants."

John gave him a wry look. "Trust me, I wouldn't have given up that much for just anyone. But you... you're worth it."

"And…technically, this…stunt thing actually did get you into my pants, so…" Rodney offered a tentative and shy smile.

"Mmm, even better. But even if it hadn't, I still would have done it. I like you, Rodney. Not just because I want you, either. I hope we can be friends, in addition to anything else."

"So…since we're obviously standing here mostly naked and smelling like sex a shower might be a good plan—especially before someone comes beating down the door."

John laughed and finally moved, turning on the shower. "So let's get cleaned up."

"We can say we're conserving water."

"Exactly. I like the way you think." Grinning, John stripped out of what little he still had on. He paused, realizing he was naked for Rodney, completely, for the first time. For some reason, that felt big.

Rodney, of course, took the opportunity for what it was, looking him up and down a little more thoroughly than John was really comfortable with. Shifting, John tried to figure out what the other man was thinking, but Rodney's face was inscrutable. Finally. he had to ask. "So?"

"So my type but usually something I never get to have, let alone look at."

John shifted again, aware that without clothes, he couldn't hide the blush creeping down his chest. "You're incredibly sexy, not to mention smart and talented, why couldn't you have whatever you wanted?"

Rodney sighed, a pained look flittering quickly across his face. "Can we just shower?" he asked, tugging off his boxers and t-shirt.

John's breath caught as he got his chance to look. "God... you really are the most beautiful man I've ever seen..."

This time, John got to see just how far the blush went, Rodney's pale skin showing everything—including the creeping color down his chest. It was like his entire body was in on the show.

Taking a step forward, John trailed a finger down Rodney's chest, circling each of the perky nipples ringed in a light smattering of hair. "Perfect."

Rodney squirmed—squirmed!—under his finger. "This isn't getting us clean, you know."

John had to take a deep breath. "I know. You're seriously like my version of crack. I can't focus on anything except you and all the ways I want to make you feel good."

"And I'm not twenty anymore. I'm not getting it up again until much later."

"Who says I wanted too? Sometimes, just this is nice."

"I'm just saying…in case you were interested because it seems like that's just about the only thing on your mind lately."

"I've had you on my mind."

"And getting in my pants."

"Yes, but not just about that. About you. All of you."

The blush deepened. "Well…the water's on. We should probably…" He gestured toward the shower.

"Mmm." John stepped into the shower, humming at how good the hot water felt. "What are you waiting for? Come on in."

Rodney was tentative, his eyes wide as he stepped inside, drawing the glass shower doors closed behind him. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

John purred and pulled the other man close, under the water. "Okay, this is going to spark a lot of wet dreams—literally and figuratively."

"Hmm…" Rodney hummed, leaning in as his arms wrapped around John's waist. "I certainly hope so," he said before tilting his head to the side, lining up their mouths for the perfectly aligned kiss.

God, this was good. John knew neither of them had the time to work themselves up to coming again, but just kissing in the shower—who knew how intimate and... right... that could be?

They made out for several minutes, before Rodney finally drew away, reaching for the soap. They washed each other's backs before taking turns ducking under the spray to rinse everything off. When they got out, John handed over a clean towel.

"So…" Rodney said after a minute. "You can run out first."

John grinned. "Sounds like a plan. Want me to go get some clothes out of your room for you?"

"I can do it."

"All right. See you out there then." John stepped in for another quick kiss before slipping out. It didn't take him long to pull on his clothes and finger-dry his wild hair.

The next time he saw Rodney was as he was climbing in one of the SUVs, Radek chatting his ear off from the looks of it.

John tried to get into that one as well, but when he popped his head in, it was full. So he waved and headed for the next one down the line. The traffic that morning made the trip longer than usual—police activity at a nearby cross-street—so he just sat back and tried to relax. Lorne, though, wasn't going to let him. "So. McKay."

"Yes?" John glanced over, aware that the entire car had gone quiet and was straining to hear.

It didn't help that Cadman and Vala were nearly hanging over the seat. "You and him…" Lorne said, letting the words trail off.

"Me and him what?"

"Well, he did sleep with you last night," Lorne said, the girls gasping with delight behind them.

John rolled his eyes. "Sleep. All we did was sleep. I have some suspicions as to who fucked with his outfit, and I really didn't want him sleeping in that room last night."

"So did you?" Vala asked, shifting closer.

"Did I make sure no one got any funny ideas to mess with him again? Yes, I did. They might be brave enough to fuck with him alone, but not when he was in our room, against the wall with me between him and the door."

Vala purred. "So was he any good?"

"I am not having this conversation." John made a face at them.

"Yes, you are. Come on. He won't talk to me so I have to find out from you," Vala said. "How was he in bed?"

"I'm not going to confirm anything beyond that he slept in our room where I could keep him safe last night." John shook his head. "He's not the kind of person who really likes his private life spread around, and I won't embarrass him by telling tales."

"But he was in your bed," Laura said with a smile.

John had to laugh as he shook his head. "Yes. He slept in my bed. That's it."

"Are you trying to tell us that you and he didn't do it?"

"I'm not going to tell you we did or didn't. I'm not going to have that conversation."

"Oh, come on," Vala said, poking him. "You can tell us. Enquiring minds and all that."

"Yeah, no." John shook his head. "I really like him, guys. I don't want to fuck this up by talking behind his back. I know he'll see it as a betrayal."

"So did you at least get to second base?" Vala asked, refusing to drop the subject.

"I'm not talking about it. Any of it. You'll just have to live with not knowing."

"They showered together," Lorne said, a smirk on his face.

The girls shrieked.

John put his head in his hands. "You had to share that?"

"It's only fair."

"How is that fair?"

"You're the only one getting any and we have to live vicariously through you."

Rolling his eyes, John made a face at all of them. "You're just going to have to go back to your fantasies. I'm not giving you any more material."

"Is he loud when he comes?" Cadman asked, leaning closer. "Or does he make soft noises?"

"Lalala, not having this conversation!"

"I know," Vala said, her voice low. "He's probably quiet, really breathy."

"Are we there yet? Can we talk about something else?"

"Why? This is fun," Vala said, her arm draping around John's shoulders from behind. "So…he does make those really great noises, doesn't he?"

"Lalalalala, not listening!"

"They were quiet last night," Lorne said shifting in his seat to look at the girls. "So I can't even tell you anything."

"Because we were sleeping!"

"See, you really are listening," Laura said with a smirk.

"Can we please change the subject? Please?"

"Let's take a vote," Vala said. "Everyone who wants to talk about John and Rodney's sex life raise your hand." Three hands went up. "All opposed." She looked at John.

He raised his hand.

"Majority rules. Conversation will continue," Vala said. "So…was he cut?"

"Only problem with that is the person you want answers from refuses to participate."

"Minor detail," she said, waving him off. "I'm sure we can come up with all kinds of stuff on our own."

"I'm still not going to talk."

Vala turned to Lorne. "So, what else did you see or hear?"

"All we did was sleep. There is nothing for him to tell you."

"They were spooning last night," Lorne said, his voice low. "And I think John was trying to start something this morning in bed."

"I was not!"

"Really?!" Vala said, leaning forward. "Tell me more. Was it kissing or touching?"

"Nothing happened!" John glared at all of them.

"I think a little of both," Lorne said, ignoring John.

"Nothing happened." John wondered if he kept repeating it, maybe eventually they would get tired of asking.

"So they did it in the bed or is that when they moved to the bathroom for privacy?"

"We slept, then we took a shower. That's it. All of it. No more."

"Well," Lorne said, "it did take a while for the shower to go on. Something could have happened before they got in the shower."

John had never been so happy in all his life to see a building. Of course the three of them kept talking all the way up to the workroom, ignoring the glares he sent them.

John sighed as he looked at the mess of a half-done garment he had. At least Rodney's would be done and ready to go down the aisle.

Rodney was already working, his head down, as he tried to finish the rest of his garment. Their models would be there in a few hours and then it would be madness as they got ready.

Even with immunity, John didn't want to send nothing down the runway, so he buckled down to try and complete something that would at least cover all the most important parts.

Although, uncovering them this morning had been pretty good.

He smiled to himself, and then got down to business. It was, as he had suspected, absolute chaos. But in the end, while it wasn't really a garment he was proud of that went to judging, he was proud of why it sucked.

Watching the runway show was a little surreal, in all honestly. The designers had come up with some really creative and interesting designs.

As he watched, he couldn't help but wonder who had tried to sabotage Rodney. He hoped they had caught whoever it was on tape, and they'd announce it after the show. He wanted whoever it was to pay for trying to cheat.

At the end, when they were all standing on the runway, Heidi looked up at all of them, her expression serious and stern. "I have to say that I am very disappointed in what happened over the last two days."

Most of the runway nodded—despite what they might or might not think of Rodney personally, most of them didn't want to win because of cheating. John made a point of trying to look around casually to see who wasn't agreeing with her.

"This week one of you showed a distinct lack of sportsmanship which tainted the entire challenge and the beautiful and creative garments that walked down this runway."

Kavanagh wasn't too upset by the whole thing, and neither was Steve, not that John was surprised by either.

"John and Rodney, please step forward."

They both stepped forward. John was still nervous—Tim had said they both had immunity this week, but still... he knew his dress had been crap.

Heidi looked at the two of them for a long moment before speaking. "Rodney, you have been through quite an ordeal this week, but through the help of John and others, you were able to complete the challenge and show your design. You are safe this week."

John relaxed a little, and smiled. Even if he still went home, he was happy Rodney was safe.

"John, you risked everything to help Rodney, showing a self-sacrificing spirit. You too were able to complete the challenge and send a garment down the runway. You are safe this week. You both may leave the runway."

"Thank you." John smiled at her. He hadn't done it for immunity, but it was nice that both of them survived to fight another week.

They walked off the stage and into the green room, collapsing on the couch as soon as the door shut behind them. "Oh god."

"I have to admit, I wasn't really sure they would let me off the hook, even with what Tim told us. God... I just hope they know who did it and send them home."

"I know, god, I know," Rodney said, his head tilted back against the couch cushions.

John reached over to twine their fingers together. "Your dress turned out amazing though, even with everything."

"I'm just glad this challenge is over."

"Yeah. Hopefully, next week we can just get back to designing without all the drama."

It was nearly another fifteen minutes before Lorne walked in looking exhausted.

"So?" John and Rodney both looked at him. "What did they say when we left?"

"We all got reamed out," Lorne said, dropping down into a chair. "I'm immune because I won last week and Heidi and the judges thought I didn't do enough to help you out."

"Wow." John shook his head. "But you didn't have to do anything to help us. Everyone had their own garments to produce, too."

"She was right, though. Since I was safe, I actually should have helped more," Lorne said with a shrug.

"But you did help," Rodney protested, sitting up in his seat.

John nodded, agreeing with Rodney. "You did help. Seriously, at least from us, it wasn't even a question. I know it wasn't you who did the damage in the first place, and honestly, that's all I care about."

"It's fine. I can take a dressing-down from Heidi anytime," he said with a smile. "I don't know what they're going to do with the rest of them, though."

"Did she give any hints that they know who did it?"

"No. Nothing. I haven't seen her so serious since we started this."

They all looked up as the door opened again. Cadman, Radek, Elizabeth, and Vala came through and collapsed in chairs. John looked questioningly at them. "So? Lorne told us what happened before he left. What happened next?"

Laura shared a look with Vala before turning back to John. "She thanked us for what we did to help you and said we were safe for this week."

"That's it?" John was getting antsy. Why weren't they getting rid of the person who was the problem to begin with?

"That's it. I think they're going to divide the rest of the group soon. We waited a few minutes before we walked all the way back in—and the producers made us leave," Laura said.

"I wonder why they're trying to keep it a secret?" John squeezed Rodney's hand, feeling the tension in his frame.

"This has never happened before," Vala said, shifting in her seat. "I was talking with one of the producers—"

"Fucking," Cadman inserted.

"Talking…" Vala said with a glare, but relented. "Okay, fucking. You two," she waved her hand at John and Rodney, "got me all worked up this morning. He said that there could be all kinds of problems if they don't handle this right."

John rolled his eyes, but chose to ignore her other comments. "I can't believe they've never had anything like this happen. For that matter, didn't they run background checks on all of us before we were chosen? You would think psychotic would show up."

"Some crazies don't show up on tests, John," Rodney said with a sigh.

"I know." John sighed. He just hoped they figured it all out.

Sha're walked in moments later, relief and disappointment on her face.

Again, there wasn't any more news as to who had actually tried to cheat. The tension in the air was getting thicker. Sam and Jennifer came in next and Sam was beaming. "I was the winner this week!"

Congratulations went up around the room. Daniel appeared moments later, relief on his face. Rodney shifted on the couch next to John, leaning into him. "Two left."

"And they're the ones I'm convinced tried to cheat. Well, one of them at least. They're the only two who would try something like that."

"And I slept in the same room as them for the last two weeks."

"I know." John gave his hand a little squeeze. "That's part of why I didn't want you sleeping in there last night. I keep going back and forth as to which of them I think it was."

"Steve. It had to be Steve."

"It wouldn't surprise me. Of the two, he's more malicious. More willing to be ruthless to get what he wants, no matter what."

"Calvin's too wrapped up in his own head and importance."

John chuckled. "The key is going to be if the producers have it on tape. If they don't have any evidence, they can't boot him on just suspicion."

"I don't know," Rodney said with a frustrated sigh.

John squeezed his hand again. "It will all work out."

Calvin walked in a few minutes later, looking shaken.

They all looked at him and the room went quiet. It was John who broke the silence. "So?"

"That…" he started, breaking off. "Steve's insane. He went after Heidi after she told him that it had been discovered that he'd destroyed McKay's garment."

"He went after her?" They all stared at him.

He nodded. "Michael Kors tackled him before the security people could get there."

"Wow." John shook his head. "I totally hope they got that on camera, and we get to see it."

"It was…scary. He was screaming about how McKay ruined him and his brother, about how they ruined him. He was insane."

John looked at Rodney, who had gone a bit pale. "Please tell me they're making sure he can't get close to any of us again."

"They're having the locks changed in the apartment, but I don't know what else they're doing," Calvin said, finally slumping down into an empty chair.

Rodney was shaking a little next to John. "He used to stare at me…at night," he said quietly.

"Fuck." John squeezed his hand. "That's just... it's fucked up."

"They're sending someone to the apartment to clean up his stuff and to go through everything," Calvin said. "We…they asked us to stay here until they finished."

"Yeah. I don't think any of us want to get near that." Laura made a face. "Sicko."

"What would make him do something like that?" Jennifer asked, her face showing all her emotions.

"He's psycho. Plain and simple." Evan shook his head. "God, to think we lived with him for all this time."

"I slept in the same room as him," Rodney said, shifting closer to John.

"Not anymore." John squeezed his hand again. "He's gone, and now none of us how to deal with him again."

"You weren't the only one, McKay. I was in there, too," Calvin said with an arrogant sniff. "This isn’t all about you."

John glared at him. "You aren't the one Steve apparently decided to try and ruin."

"I could have been next!"

Pretty much everyone in the room rolled their eyes. "Anyway," Evan grabbed a bottle of water and handed it to Rodney, "At least now we know who it was, and that person is gone."

"Thanks," Rodney said, taking it and twisting the top off of it. "I wonder if he left anything behind."

"With luck, the producers will make sure there are no traces of him in the apartment or the workroom." John sighed. What a day.

The conversation continued quietly around them, Rodney eventually shifting so that his head was pillowed on John's shoulder and he was snoring quietly. John relaxed, smiling softly. He resisted the urge to press a kiss into Rodney's temple, aware that they weren't exactly alone.

Laura brought over a blanket she'd scrounged from somewhere, tossing it over the two of them. A little while later she walked over with a plate of food for John. The caterers had been in, delivering their dinner a while ago—making a racket—but Rodney had slept through it all.

He waved for her to set it on the table next to him, not wanting to disturb Rodney. Before long, he found himself starting to drift off as well, warm and comfortable with Rodney by his side.

It wasn't long before he heard the whispering. "Don't they look cute?"

"Sickeningly so."

"It makes me want to go and ravage another producer."

"Finally gave up on Daniel, eh?"

"He keeps making googly eyes at that brunette chick. I still have time, but why would I deprive myself?"

"She's not going to be here much longer. Sha're is a nice girl, but she doesn't really have the talent to go all the way. Although, I hope Calvin is next to go. Stuck-up asshole."

"And it's not like anyone would volunteer to stick anything up there. He probably hasn't gotten laid in years."

Laura chuckled softly. "You could always volunteer. Maybe a good lay would smooth him out."

"Oh god no. I’m not that desperate and anyway, I know I wouldn't get anything out of it myself and even though I've been responsible for my own orgasm for years, sometimes it's nice to have someone else take care of it."

"And who knows what kind of diseases he might have."

"True," Vala said with a quiet sigh. "So, should we wake them?"

"Soon. We can admire how gushy they look for a few more minutes."

"They are disgustingly cute, aren't they?"

"Totally. They will never live down this level of adorableness."

"And the sex has to be fantastic."

"You've got one insanely hot guy, and one insanely focused guy. I'd pay money to watch."

"Mmm…that would be amazing."

"Sheppard would be easy to convince, but we'd have to work on Rodney."

Of course, Rodney picked that moment to shift, turning into John a little more, his arms wrapping around his waist. He huffed into John's chest before stilling again—but not before the girls sighed and cooed at them.

John thought about telling them off, but he was just too comfortable, and too unwilling to disturb Rodney at all. Instead, he lowered his head and snuffled a little into the other man's hair, loving the way he smelled.

"Aww! Did you see that," Laura whispered.

Vala's chuckle was husky. "Now I really need a producer."

Their hushed conversation was interrupted when someone walked in and loudly clapped, announcing that they could to head back to the apartments.

John started, surprised by the loud sound.

Rodney jumped as well, knocking his head into the bottom of John's chin.

"Ow." John tasted blood.

"Oh, ow what?"

Licking the inside of his mouth, he decided it wasn't too bad. "I bit my tongue. No big deal."

"I guess we should have woken them," Laura said, looking down at the two of them.

John made a face at them, and then looked back at Rodney. He was still sleep-tousled, and so beautiful that John leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on his lips before he stopped to think about what he was doing.

Rodney kissed him back, his tongue sliding across the seam of John's lips. With a soft sigh, John parted his lips, letting Rodney delicately slip inside.

The in-stereo sound of cooing from the two girls, though, was thoroughly distracting.

John pulled back to glare at them. "Do you mind?"

"Keep going," Vala said, waving them on. "This is good."

John rolled his eyes and looked back at Rodney. "Hold that thought until we don't have an audience?"

Rodney licked his lips, blinking up a little sleepily up at John. "Ah…what?"

"God... you are so... I could..." Despite the girls, he had to kiss him again.

This time, though, the cat calls and whistles were a bit much.

Reluctantly, John stood up, holding out a hand to pull Rodney to his feet. "Later," he whispered softly.

"You can keep going," Vala said with a smirk. "Don't mind us. Pretend like we're not even here."

"Yeah, no." John made a face at her.

They headed down to the cars, Laura and Vala staying with them and encouraging them to kiss again.

John leaned in to Rodney. "Don't mind them. They can't seem to resist."

"It's a disturbing obsession, isn't it?"

"More than a little. I have a feeling whatever we don't tell them, they just make up for themselves. I got grilled this morning in the car."

"You what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Your car was full, so I got stuck with them and Evan. They were trying to get me to talk about sex with you. I refused to say a word."

Rodney snorted. "Typical," he said, glaring at the two girls. "Why don't you go and make-out in the corner? We'll watch this time."

Vala actually shot Laura a speculative look, but Laura shook her head. "Watching you is more fun."

"Oh, come on. Girl-on-girl action is fun for guys."

"And far more common than good quality guy-on-guy. You two need to make out, and maybe have sex in the living room, for the sake of good porn everywhere."

Rodney snorted. "I don't think so."

"Oh, why not?" Vala pouted. "What about just for us. You could do it in the bedroom and we'd just sit across from you."

"No."

"Oh, why not?"

"Because some things," he said as they pulled up in front of their building, "should remain private."

She pouted.

Rodney got out, pausing to wait as John exited from the other side of the car before starting toward the building. "So, I wonder if they found anything."

"Dunno. I wonder if they'll tell us if they did." John fell into an easy pace beside him.

Rodney shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not." The elevator was just up ahead, one of the cars open and empty.

John leaped ahead, grabbing it before the door could close and holding it open. "Yeah, probably depends on what it was and how freaked out they think it would make us."

"I'm pretty freaked out about the whole thing, honestly."

"I can imagine. Why don't you sleep in our room again tonight?"

"Because I have a perfectly good bed in the other room."

"Yes, but your bed doesn't have me in it."

"And they're not exactly big beds," Rodney said as the doors closed.

"So you're not a cuddler, huh?"

Rodney narrowed his eyes. "I didn't say that."

John grinned. "Small beds just make cuddling easier."

"Big comfortable beds are good for that too, you know." He glanced around the elevator, his eyes finally resting on the floor indicator.

"True. But we'll have to wait for that until after the show is over."

"Is this thing slow?"

"The elevator?" John looked around. "I have no idea. I wasn't paying any attention.

Rodney shifted on his feet. "It never took this long."

"It still feels like it's moving..."

"I know. It's just…in my head," he said, his fingers wiggling. "I hate this."

Fortunately, the elevator doors choose that moment to open. John took Rodney's hand and squeezed it as they stepped out. "Stay in our room tonight. It will make us both more comfortable I think."

"I'll be fine."

"Please?" John licked his lips. "I... it would make me feel better. Plus... I sort of... really liked sleeping with you next to me."

"Your room is crowded enough already without me."

"So let me come sleep with you then."

"You'll have to deal with Calvin."

"I really don't care about him at all."

"He'll be in the room," Rodney hissed as they walked up to the apartment. One of the production assistants was waiting outside for them.

John took a deep breath. All the contestants were gathering in front of the doors, and the production assistant seemed to be waiting for them all to make it upstairs.

"Designers, we wanted to talk to all of you before you headed into your apartments," he said. "The locks have all been changed, so you will have new keys waiting for you inside on the kitchen counter."

They all nodded—that had been expected.

"We also wanted to apologize for what has occurred. Nothing like this has ever happened before and honestly, we never expected it."

John held his tongue, squeezing Rodney's hand. They should have anticipated someone might try to cheat. There was a lot at stake here.

"All of the rooms have been searched and cleared, so you can go back inside. Rodney, I need to talk to you before you go in."

Everyone else filed in, but John hung back, hoping they'd let him stay out here until Rodney was cleared to go back in as well.

"Tomorrow you will all have a break day and we'll be giving you an allowance to go shopping for some clothes. It seems that much of what you brought had been ruined."

Gasps went up as the people who had already walked inside heard what had been said. Even John's eyes widened. "How did he manage that? He was with us at the workroom the whole time today. He left with us this morning."

"My stuff? He…what did he do to it?"

The producer sighed. "It seems he managed to slip his key to his brother, who came in while everyone was away. Most of the clothing was sliced apart."

"But my clothes," Rodney repeated.

The producer sighed. "I can't express enough how sorry we are."

"So…I have to go shopping tomorrow because some psychotic contestant ruined my clothes. And you're just…sorry." Rodney's voice was bitter.

"Tell me what else you would like to see to make this better, and I'll do my best to get it for you."

"I don't know. What are your suggestions?"

"We're giving you $5,000 to replace your entire wardrobe, at your discretion tomorrow, as well as a driver to bring you anywhere you'd like to go."

"That's a start," Rodney sniffed.

"Name what else you'd like to see from us. Like I said, I can't make any promises beyond what I named, but I will do my best to get you what you want."

"I'll think about it," Rodney said. "Is that all?"

The production assistant nodded. "The driver will be here at 8am tomorrow morning to pick you up, and will have a Visa check card with your name on it and a $5,000 balance."

"How long do I have to spend it?"

"All day. And anything you don't spend will still be yours to keep."

"Good," Rodney nodded to himself. "Make sure the car has water bottles and snacks. Enough for two."

The production assistant nodded and glanced at John. "Done. I assume Mister Sheppard will be the second party joining you?"

"You assumed correctly." He titled his chin up. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not. I'll see if I can get the network to issue a Visa card in your name, as well, Mister Sheppard. I can't guarantee anything, and I doubt it will be as much, but your help and sportsmanship did not go unnoticed. I'll see what I can do."

"Make sure it happens," Rodney sniffed, pointing to the door. "Is that all?"

"That's all. Have a good night."

Rodney nodded, moving past the production assistant and into the apartment without a backwards glance.

John smiled at him, and then followed Rodney inside.

All the guys were waiting for them in the living room when they walked in.

John let out a breath. "So apparently Bob paid a visit to the apartment while we were at the workshop today and destroyed all of Rodney's clothes. They're giving him some money and a driver tomorrow to go restock his wardrobe."

Lorne's face hardened. "He did what!"

John nodded. "Steve managed to leave his key somewhere Bob could find it so he could get in here."

"We should find that bastard and do something to him."

John shook his head. "And that proves what? That we're as much bastards as they are? No, I'm going to stay with Rodney tonight, and go with him tomorrow while he shops to keep an eye out for trouble. If you think of anything that might help keep him safe from these psychos—during the competition or after--I'd love to hear them."

A few people grumbled, but no one voiced an opinion, wandering off to their own beds or to other areas of the apartment. Rodney turned to him, looking at him a little oddly. "You know, you didn't have to do that or say that."

"Yes, I did." John gave him a serious look. "I won't let them hurt you again. In any way."

Rodney gave him another odd look, but it passed quickly enough. "I'm exhausted and hungry."

"Yeah. I'll make us some sandwiches if you want to take a quick shower."

"I don't even feel up for that, but sandwiches would be good."

John smiled softly at him. "Go get comfortable then, and I'll be in with sandwiches in a few minutes."

Rodney nodded and wandered toward his bedroom, rubbing the back of his neck.

John quickly pulled out the fixings for turkey sandwiches and whipped a few up.

By the time he was headed into the second bedroom, he could hear Calvin whining—loudly—and Rodney's softer replies.

"…don't care what you want, Kavanagh. This is what I'm doing."

"But this is my room and I should get a say in who stays where."

"It won't be for long so shut up and go curl up in your corner."

John walked in and set the sandwiches down. "Here you go, buddy."

"Thanks," Rodney said, scowling at Calvin who was standing at the end of his bed looking downright annoyed and pissed off. John was actually surprised to see two of the twin beds shoved together on the other side of the room.

"So, let me get this straight, you're pissed off because you can't steal all four beds?"

"No. I'm pissed off because he doesn't have the right—or permission—to move furniture around."

John rolled his eyes. "Calvin, you just need to take a chill pill."

"He can't just…" Calvin's hand was waving at Rodney who was straightening the bed covers. "Move things and do things. He has no right. This is my room, too, and I get a say on what happens in it."

John had to close his eyes and count to ten. "You know what, too damn bad. Live with it, or go sleep on the couch."

"This is my room, too!" Calvin screeched.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Rodney grumbled. "I'm tired and going to bed."

"Exactly." John's expression hardened. "You need to get your head out of your ass and start realizing the world doesn't revolve around you, Kavanagh."

"Come on, John," Rodney said, gesturing him forward. "I plan to eat and go to bed and sleep."

John stared at Calvin for another long moment until the other man actually cowered a little, then nodding to himself, John returned to Rodney's side. "Yeah, it's been a long day."

Rodney was stripping out of his clothes down to his t-shirt and boxers before sliding into bed. He gave John the "gimmie, gimmie" hand gesture, pointing at the sandwiches. "Come on. What are you waiting for?"

With a soft laugh, John brought the plate over before stripping down to his own boxers.

Rodney was already halfway done with his sandwich by the time John slid into the other side of the bed, making soft, happy noises as he ate. He snagged his own, and quickly polished it off, surprised at how hungry he had been.

A few minutes later, Rodney was fluffing the covers to shake off the crumbs before collapsing onto his back and pulling the blankets up to his chin. He shifted around a few times before finally ending up on his stomach, head turned to the side.

John crawled in behind him, managing to spoon himself along Rodney's side.

"Mmm," Rodney hummed. "You're warm."

"So are you. S'very nice."

"I would've said you were hot, but it might go to your head," Rodney mumbled into the pillow.

John chuckled, pressing a kiss to a random patch of skin near his lips. "Night Rodney."

"'m just saying. Can't have you walking around with a big head."

"I promise, I'll keep my ego in check."

"I have enough ego for the two of us," he said, shifting again, moving closer to John. "This two bed thing is good."

"Mmm."

"I don't have to worry about you shoving me into a wall or onto the floor."

"Rodney? Shhhh. Bed. Sleep."

"But it was a worry! The beds are made for kids, not grown men, let alone two of them."

John laughed again, pressing another kiss into Rodney's skin. He drifted off to sleep with a huge smile on his face.

***

The shopping trip—while essential since Rodney had no intention of appearing on national television naked—was just as boring as he anticipated it to be. John was great, but it was still a little early for this kind of domestic arrangement.

And John…

He hadn't figured out what he was going to do about John. He completely and absolutely threw him off his game. One sound and he was looking up, looking for him. And then there were the times—nearly always—that he could feel John's eyes on his ass or other parts of his person, staring at him.

And the flirty teasing comments just had to stop.

But they were back at the studio, sitting in their chairs waiting to discover what they're next challenge was going to be. It had better not involve buttons or ribbon or any other notions. He was SO done with that.

Heidi walked out onto the stage, smiling at them. "Hello, designers, and welcome back to the runway. Today, you'll be meeting Tim at the New York Hall of Science, where you'll be getting an out-of-this-world assignment. Good luck!"

The Hall of Science? Rodney shook his head as he climbed to his feet, grateful he'd been wearing his favorite shoes. All his new clothes and shoes felt weird.

They all piled into the vans and headed out, with John ensconced in what had become his spot next to Rodney, thighs pressed together. Rodney leaned into him, lov—liking the closeness, the companionship. It was still new and fun and exciting.

John shot him a soft smile and squeezed the hand he had taken possession of as soon as the cars had started moving.

"So what do you think we're going to have to do? Create a garment based on a science discipline or something?"

John shrugged. "As long as we're allowed to use fabric again, I don't think I care this week."

"Oh god, yes," Rodney breathed out, getting an echoing comment from Cadman in the back seat.

When they arrived, they all piled out, lining up in the lobby in an area that had been roped off for them. After a few minutes, Tim walked out. Followed by William Shatner. William. Fucking. Shatner.

Rodney tried not to hyperventilate, but it was hard.

Tim smiled at them. "Hello, designers. I'm sure all of you recognize our guest in this week's challenge. Mister William Shatner."

"Designers," he started, hands waving widely. "As you may know…I have…been…involved… with a small…piece of American pop culture history. Namely…Star Trek."

There were some squees from some of the contestants.

"I see you recognize it." He smiled. "Today…you'll be…creating a garment that is inspired by…not only…my program…but the entire science fiction genre."

Tim nodded. "Designers, you'll get an hour to walk around the museum, which has a new exhibit opening on the power of science fiction in driving new ideas, after which you'll be given thirty minutes to sketch before we'll go to Mood."

"And make sure it's something…out of this world!" Shatner said.

They all scattered, most of them heading toward the new exhibit. It was amazing. Rodney had never really thought about how much modern technology had its roots in some crazy sci-fi idea.

He wandered for nearly the entire time, ideas buzzing through his head. He was leaning toward silver and blue as his main colors, with black and white accents. It had to be stunning.

John stayed beside him, bouncing lightly on his toes the whole time.

"Did you even look at anything?"

John nodded. "I'm going to make a kind of high-tech, sci-fi pilot suit, I think. I'm hoping I can find some really wild metallic fabric as my base, and the rest of my colors will probably flow from there. What about you?"

"Are you adding neon, too? Sometimes I swear you're trapped in the 80s."

John chuckled. "No, probably not. I want it to hint at a sort of military uniform, but one from the future, when they're flying spaceships, not planes."

"Uh huh," Rodney said, a smile threatening. "You have a love for shiny things, don't you?"

John grinned. "What can I say? I'm a flashy sort of guy."

"Flashy. Let me guess. You love fast cars, too."

"Oh yeah. Anything that goes fast is a-okay in my book."

Rodney rolled his eyes and chuckled as they headed back toward the entrance. "You know, you don't have to compensate for anything, right? You're just…hot enough the way you are."

John's smile was blinding.

"Oh god. You're going to grin like a loon for the rest of your natural life, aren't you?"

"Maybe. You think I'm hot."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't be…you know…" he said waving his hands, "if I didn't think you were hot."

John just hummed and continued to grin.

"Idiot," Rodney muttered.

John's smile just got wider as they all settled down with sketchbooks a producer handed out.

Rodney shook his head, getting down to work. By the time they left for Mood, he had three designs sketched out, but no idea which one would actually work. It would depend upon the fabric he could find.

John had filled his book with several sketches. In the van, they traded books and looked at one another's ideas. "I like the second one you've got here. It's very fashion-forward."

"Are you sure you're designing something futuristic?" Rodney asked, flipping through the pages. "It all looks…very 50s and retro."

"Ahh, but that's when a lot of the best sci-fi was on television. I'm trying to capture that 50s vibe of what the future would be."

"Star Trek was in the 60s," Rodney said, looking over John's shoulder at his book. "And fashion forward? Really?"

"Yeah. I really like this one." John handed him his book back.

"Hmm."

"I especially like your ideas for the way the top and bottom flow together. That's a real neat-looking transition."

"Thanks," Rodney said quietly. "I still don't understand why you're going so retro."

John shrugged. "I loved those shows growing up, and looking at the old pictures they had, made me remember how much I used to anticipate them, get so excited they were coming on. I kind of want to try and recapture that feeling, I guess."

"I guess," Rodney said, shrugging. "I never like looking back, so maybe that's why I’m so confused about your approach."

"I probably won't go this heavy on the retro. A lot of it depends on the base fabric I can find. Ideally, I'd love to find a deep copper with a good sheen to it and build from there."

"My design will be based on what fabric I can find. That's what my final decision will be based on, honestly."

John nodded. "It all comes down to that, doesn't it? We can sketch all we want, but in the end, we have to design around what fabrics we actually have access to."

"Or what we can find before someone else steals it out of our hands."

John grinned at him.

Rodney returned the grin just as Tim clapped his hands, reminding them that their time was up and they were heading for Mood.

They piled into the cars, everyone chattering about the challenge and who the judge was. It seemed everyone wanted to come out on top this time. But then, who didn't want to come out on top when it was William-freaking-Shatner as the judge?

When they arrived at Mood, it was a free-for-all, with everyone dashing around and mini fights breaking out as people tried to claim the same fabrics. Rodney managed to pull one fabric away from Jennifer, leaving her crying in the aisle. He didn't care though. He needed that fabric to achieve the look he was going for.

By the time they were back in the car, it was like they had all been through a war zone, and were suffering from PTSD. John grinned at him again, though, holding up his bag. "I totally found a coppery fabric that will work. How'd you do?"

"Good, good," Rodney nodded, settling in with the bag at his feet. He leaned in toward John. "I think I have everything."

"This should be a lot of fun." John's hand slid over his thigh, warm and comforting.

"And nerve-wracking and panic-attack inducing."

"Well, that too." John's smile was warm. Rodney felt the caress on the inside of his thigh.

Rodney shifted and turned toward John. He licked his lips as a pool of arousal and want churned inside. John glanced over, and his eyes darkened a bit. It was a heady thing to know that someone like John wanted him. Badly.

John's hand tightened on this thigh, sliding up a little higher. He leaned in, so his breath was soft in Rodney's ear. "Later. When I can get you alone and have all the time in the world."

Rodney swallowed thickly. "I…yeah…later…much later."

John's hum reverberated through Rodney's body.

The rest of the trip to Parsons was done in silence, John's hand resting nearly in the crease of his leg, fingers brushing his groin. It was all Rodney could think about.

As they all started to pile out, John's hand slid up higher, briefly, actually caressing the outline of Rodney's dick before it fell away.

"Bastard," Rodney growled, needing a few seconds before he could climb out of the SUV.

John just grinned as they all trooped into the elevators and then into the workroom.

Rodney spent the next hour trying to ignore his half-hard dick and how it had felt to have John's hand on him. The other man, however, wasn't making it easy. He was just... there. Smiling, joking, sharing a soft look with Rodney when no one else was looking.

By the end of the first day when they were packing up to go home, Rodney realized he hadn't gotten much done at all because he kept daydreaming about what he would rather be doing in bed with a particular lanky, messy-haired man.

In the car, John's hand returned to where it had rested that morning, not really helping him shake the need.

The want.

It just…drove it up to yet another level.

John leaned in to whisper again. "Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are right now?"

Rodney licked his lips, turning his head just enough so he could look John in the eyes. "You are killing me," he whispered.

"Ditto. Fair is fair, after all."

"I got nothing done because of you! Nothing!" he hissed. "You kept looking and smiling and acting all sexy."

John blinked and then smiled. "I'll try not to be as sexy tomorrow so I don't distract you."

"You're sexy just by breathing," he huffed, resting his hand on top of John's. John hummed and turned his hand slightly so they could lace their fingers together.

"So…when are you going to fuck him?" Cadman asked, leaning over the back seat and sticking her head between theirs. "The sexual tension between the two of you is off the charts."

John's eyes rolled. "What kind of question is that? You don't just ask people that."

"I do. I don't think you should beat around the bush. So, are you?"

"None of your business. I think I've told you that before, haven't I?"

She turned to Rodney. "So?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sputtered. "I don't think it's any of your business and this is not appropriate car conversation."

"See!" John shook his head and looked at Rodney. "She and Vala both were trying to get me to talk earlier. I keep telling them it's none of their business."

"Of course it's our business. It's happening right in front of us. So…the whole fucking thing. Tonight?"

John shook his head. "Not having this conversation."

"Come on, McKay," Cadman said, her voice taking on a wheedling tone. "So…tonight?"

"None of your business."

Vala leaned in from the other side. "Inquiring minds want to know, boys. You need to share details."

"God!" Rodney jumped. "It is not your business!"

"Of course it is." Vala waved her hand. "If it has to do with sex, it is my business. Now dish, sweetie."

"Not your business and it will never be your business."

"Oh come on." Vala gave him a honey smile. "It's not like we're asking for much. We just want to know what the sex is like. Is his dick as pretty as the rest of him?"

"Why don't you find out yourself?"

"I asked. He won't show me." She pouted at John, who was both beet red and scowling at her. It was... kind of adorable in an embarrassing sort of way.

"That's something you need to take up with Sheppard," Rodney said. "I'm not getting involved with it."

"Yeah, no." John shook his head. "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not getting naked for you, and I'm not giving you details about anyone I do choose to get naked with."

"Oh, come on, Sheppard. Just a peek," she said, reaching over his shoulder and down toward John's waistband.

He jerked her hand away from him. "Okay, personal space rule. You're invading it."

"There is no personal space. We're living in group apartments. Anything goes, now come on, open up."

"No." John glared at her. "Why are you two so fixated on us? It's not like we're throwing it in your faces or anything. Just the opposite."

"It's because you're so cute together with all of the hand holding and the long lustful looks," Cadman said with a smirk.

"And we just want to enjoy a little... courtship. We both know starting something while we're competing is a bad idea, so it gives us a chance to enjoy the build-up."

"Oh, yeah, like you groping Rodney is just part of the foreplay. He's wanted to jump you all day and he got nothing done even when he wasn't staring at you."

John flushed again and Rodney caught him cutting his eyes over. "I wasn't actually trying to distract him. I plan to do better tomorrow."

"And you two need another hobby because we're not available anymore," Rodney grumbled.

"Exactly." John nodded. "Let's talk about our designs. I got a peek at yours, Cadman, and it looks amazing. What are your plans for it?"

"Oh no, I think your sex life is a whole lot more exciting," she said, leaning forward more.

Hell. This was hell. Neither of them stopped the entire ride back to the apartment and up the elevator to their floor. Thankfully Daniel wandered by distracting Vala and allowing John and Rodney to slip away from them.

"Sorry about that." John sighed, leaning against the wall where they had managed to find a private corner. "I tried to warn them off earlier, too, but the two of them are persistent as hell."

"They're like pit bulls," Rodney said, feeling a little shell-shocked and exhausted. "What is so god-damned interesting about us?"

"I have no idea." John reached over and dragged his fingertips across Rodney's cheek. "We'll just have to ignore them as much as we can."

"Like they're going to let us." Rodney sighed, letting his eyes slide closed.

"They don't matter." Rodney felt John shift, and then warm breath skated across his lips.

"Mmm, but they're a pain in the ass," he said, lips brushing against John's.

A tongue lightly traced the seam of his lips. "Who cares about them? All that matters is this and the designs. We'll get through this competition as the top two, and then we'll go off somewhere and have wild sex for weeks on end."

"But we have to deal with them," Rodney complained, letting his hands move to John's waist, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"Mmmm, true. But it's easy enough to just brush them off and get back to the good stuff."

"I told you they'd jump each other if we left them alone for a few minutes!"

John groaned as his head came to rest on Rodney's shoulder. "Seriously? You can't leave us alone for five minutes?"

"We did. For five minutes and look at the good stuff happening!" Cadman was practically vibrating.

In a low voice pitched for Rodney's ears, John growled. "We seriously need to find somewhere with a lock."

"And then they'll complain we're spending too long in the bathroom."

"Too damn bad." Straightening, John took Rodney's hand and tugged him toward the one room that could be locked and had no cameras.

"John…come on…let's just go to bed," he said, his arousal replaced with exhaustion and annoyance.

The other man sighed, but nodded. "Yeah, it's been a long day, and it will be just as long tomorrow. Want to grab anything from the kitchen first?"

"No," Rodney said shaking his head. "I'm fine. I need to pee and get ready for bed."

John followed him in, and was ready and in Rodney's bed when he finally wandered back out.

It was still really…disconcerting that John was in his bed. Well, in the bigger bed they'd made from shoving the two twin beds together. He kept wanting to pinch himself because he never, ever landed the really hot guys.

But instead of laughing and declaring it all a huge joke, John lit up when he spotted Rodney, and held out his arms in an invitation.

Kavanagh huffed and muttered something under his breath, but Rodney ignored him, crawling into bed with John.

"Mmmm, you smell good." John rubbed his nose in the curve of Rodney's neck.

"John," he huffed, but let himself slide in closer, spooning against John's chest.

"Mmm? I'm not starting anything. Just getting comfortable."

"Uh huh, sure you are," Rodney said, putting his hand over John's wandering one as it was headed south.

He got an amused huff. "Okay, I'm trying to be good. I make no promises about how well that will pan out, however."

"You should be able to control yourself."

"What fun is that? And you're too tempting by half."

"I didn't come all this way to screw it up over a fuck."

He felt John nod. "I know. Neither did I. And I am trying, I promise. I really didn't mean to distract you today."

"It doesn't take much, trust me."

Lips brushed against his skin. "Tomorrow we'll buckle down and work. I wasn't kidding when I said I want us to be the top two. After that... I'll be happy with any outcome. I wouldn't mind losing to you. I can't say the same of anyone else, but to you... that wouldn't bother me, surprisingly."

"We'll see," Rodney said, taking a deep breath and relaxing into John's arms.

"Night, Rodney."

"Night," he said, humming contentedly. He could get used to this sleeping with someone thing.

The next day was a whirlwind of frantic activity. Rodney was in so much trouble, so far behind. This was so bad. Really, really bad.

He pushed himself to work, to stop staring at John's hips and hands and ass and hair. But it was hard. He'd rather stare at John because his garment was a nightmare and a train wreck all wrapped together in metallic fabrics.

Somehow, between fittings and sewing and sweating, he managed to put something together to send down the runway. Sitting next to John during the runway show he cringed, absolutely mortified by the…thing that was walking down the runway. It was…hideous and horrible. He could see the stitching on the side. It looked unfinished. It looked like something his niece could make and she five.

There seemed to be no middle ground this week—it was either an amazing outfit, or it was a disaster. About half of them fell into the disaster category along with his.

Well, at least he had good company.

Rodney sighed as they were lined up, divided into groups, him on one side of the stage, John on the other. Although some of the hideous designs were with John's group, so he was a tad bit confused.

Heidi looked at the two groups. "If you are on the left, you are safe this week, and you may leave the runway."

Rodney watched as John let out a big huge sigh of relief and he headed to the green room, leaving him on the runway with Sam, Daniel, Calvin, Sha're, and Jennifer.

"Let's bring out your models." Heidi gestured, and six models came waltzing out, lining up beside the designers.

Rodney tried to offer a smile to his model, but he realized it probably came out closer to a grimace than a real smile. God, he was nervous. He knew he'd fucked up by spending so much time thinking—and staring—at John for two days and now he was going to get kicked to the curb. He was going to be kicked out because he couldn't keep it in his pants.

They came down the line, and it was pretty obvious from the comments that Calvin and Jennifer were in the bottom, and Sam and Daniel were in the top. When they got to Rodney, it was down to him and Sha're. William Shatner leaned forward. "So tell us…what was your…inspiration?"

"Honestly? It might come as a surprise to some, but I'm a sci-fi geek and I've watched just about everything science fiction related that I could get my hands on. I wanted to pay tribute to all the good—and bad—sci-fi out there."

Shatner nodded. "You did a great job…capturing the essence of…old school science fiction…shows."

Michael Kors nodded. "I like how you deliberately left the stitching visible on the sides, reminiscent of the old costumes. It was a bold move, and paid off well."

Rodney swore there had to be a thunk as his jaw hit the floor because…his garment was a train wreck. "Ah…thank you," he finally managed to get out before they moved on to Sha're.

They tore her outfit apart—it was pretty bad, with absolutely no taste or design sense whatsoever—but Rodney didn't pay much attention. They had actually... liked his design. They thought he had done the things he hadn't managed to finish on purpose.

"Thank you, designers," Heidi said a few minutes later. "We'll call you back when we're finished discussing your designs."

They all file offstage, and John is immediately at his side. "So?"

"They liked it," he said, his voice sounding as awed as he still felt. "It…it was horrible and they liked it. It wasn't even finished the right way."

John grinned and led him to a couch, handing him a plate of food. "That's because you're brilliant, and you don't give yourself enough credit."

"It was a train wreck."

"It looked awesome. Very otherworldly."

Rodney shook his head, eating the food John had given him automatically. "William Shatner liked it."

"How freaking cool is that?"

"I just…" He shook his head, taking a few bites.

"I bet you win this one."

"I don't know."

"Either way, you're top three this week." John grinned. "Congrats!"

"You don't know that," Rodney said shooting John a scowl as he continued eating.

"If William Shatner liked your outfit, you're in the top, not the bottom. If I had to guess, I'd say of the ones out there with you it's either Calvin or Sha're this week. They were both pretty bad."

"I guess," he said with a shrug, putting the plate down on his lap, finally taking a breath. "But what if they were just being nice? What if they're really ripping my garment to shreds right now? I mean, it deserves it, but still." He took a breath, letting it out slowly. "I hate the waiting, the not knowing."

"I know." John reached over and squeezed his leg. "Somehow, that's worse than anything else."

"Way worse." He sighed again shifting to lean forward and put his half-empty plate on the table beside the couch. His stomach was far too unsettled for him to have more.

John tugged at him, getting him to turn so his back was to the other man. Before he could ask what was going on, John's hands were on his shoulders, massaging out some of the tension.

"Oh…god…don't stop."

John chuckled softly. "Wasn't planning to."

Rodney let his head fall forward, chin on his chest. "This would be so much better naked."

John's hands paused, and a choked sound came from behind him. "God, you can't just say things like that if you expect me to be good and hold off on mauling you until this is over."

"What? Why?" Rodney shifted, turning slightly. "It's the truth. The best massages are always when you're naked and there's lots of oil involved."

John's eyes were dark. "Those kinds of massages are good, yes, but they also lead to other, more... intimate... massages."

"Well, yes, of course," Rodney nodded, his eyes widening a moment later as realization dawned. "Oh."

"Yeah." John's eyes slipped shut for a moment, and a glance down showed he was aroused by the conversation. "You have no idea how much I want you."

"Sorry. I didn't mean…I wasn't planning on…oh god, I'm sorry."

He watched John swallow a few times, then his eyes opened, and a wry grin crossed his lips. "It's okay. When I do get you to myself though... I plan to spend an inordinate amount of time reducing you to a pile of goo."

"And I'm all for that. Boneless and sated with pleasure is always a good thing to work toward," he nodded, head bobbing. "But…right now we probably should…well, you know…" He waved his hand a little awkwardly.

"Not drag you off to a closet to do wicked things to your body?"

"Yes, that. I have to go back on stage soon."

"Yeah." John swallowed again, and then pushed Rodney around so he could resume the massage.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"With what? Giving you a massage? I wouldn't have started if I didn't like it."

"But you're all…hot and bothered. Well, you're always hot, but…"

John's chuckle was soft. "Yes, but I like touching you. I'll take what I can get."

"Well…okay…" Rodney said, cheeks flushed hot as he forced his body to relax. He loved the feel of John's hands on him, how strong they were.

They lapsed into silence, John's hands glided over Rodney's shoulders like they knew his skin intimately already.

Rodney let his mind drift, feeling his muscles unclench one by one as John worked them, fingers finding knots and smoothing them out with his very talented fingers.

By the time the producers reappeared to tell them it was time to go back on stage, John had reduced him to a relaxed puddle.

He stumbled a little as he rose to his feet, his body and mind seemingly disconnected from reality.

"Good luck." John's smile was soft.

"Ahh…thanks," he said, nodding as he headed out with the other five contestants. It took him a few minutes before he was really able to pay attention and by that time, two people had already been dismissed—Jennifer and Daniel—told they were safe this week.

Heidi had her game face on. "One of you will be the winner, and one of you will be out."

Rodney could feel his body tensing up again, all the work John had put into relaxing him ebbing away piece by piece. "Sam," Heidi said, "your design was smart and sophisticated but it was also very safe."

She looked at Rodney. "Rodney, you took a big risk, and in this case, it paid off. You are the winner this week. Congratulations."

"I…wow…thank you," he stuttered into the silence after Heidi's announcement.

All the judges smiled at him. "You have earned immunity from elimination next week, and a version of your design will be available on BlueFly.com. You may leave the runway."

"Thank you," he repeated, managing to walk off the runway without embarrassing himself. One of the production assistants patted him on the back as he walked past, congratulating him. He answered vaguely as he maneuvered his way back to the green room to wait for the other two contestants.

John was standing there waiting for him. "So?"

Rodney blinked a few times, the question taking a few moments longer to process than normal. "I won."

Whooping, John gave him a huge hug. The sound drew everyone's attention, and he was being congratulated and hugged by everyone else, too

"I…thanks," he said, repeating it a few times as everyone crowded around.

Sam wasn't far behind him, and then they all settled in to wait and see who was sent home.

John manhandled him onto the couch, throwing his arm around his shoulders as they settled in close. Honestly, Rodney would love to see Calvin go home for selfish reasons. He'd have the room to himself—well, and John.

Someone was smiling down on him—it was Sha're who returned to the green room.

"I am safe another week," she said quietly before her gaze found Daniel across the room.

Daniel smiled, and went over to hug her. It was Radek who let out a satisfied yell. "He is gone!"

It took a few seconds to process it before he found himself grinning like a loon at John.

Those of them who had survived toasted Rodney's win with beer and more of the food that had been put out for them, until a producer finally herded them all out the door.

Rodney stayed in that happy bubble of relief and elation for the rest of the night, John remaining glued to his side the whole time. It was probably a good thing since he really wasn't paying any attention to what he was eating or drinking and vaguely realized that John had moved him to water once they arrived at the apartment.

When the party finally wound down, Rodney found himself led into the bedroom and gently stripped down to his boxers.

"Hey…what are you doing?"

"Getting you ready for bed."

"Noticed that," Rodney said with a smile, leaning in toward John. "I have the room to myself now."

"Yes, you do." John smiled. "We won't have to listen to Kavanagh's snoring tonight."

"Thank god. You have no idea how annoying that was."

"Oh, yes, I do. I could barley sleep with his racket."

"And now we have privacy…well…along with the cameras of course."

"Mmm, we do. But tonight, all we're going to do is sleep." John guided him back to the bed, helping him get under the covers.

"Mmm," Rodney hummed as he eased down onto the mattress, rolling onto his stomach and letting out a long breath. "Oh, this is nice."

He heard a soft chuckle, and then John's warm body was sliding in next to him.

"We have to work again tomorrow, don't we?"

"Dunno. I can't remember if the producers said we get a day off or not."

"Why not?" he grumbled, most of the words lost in his pillow.

"Sleep, Rodney." Lips pressed lightly into the side of his head. "Night."

Rodney sniffed, shifting on the bed, pressing closer to John. "Night."

***

John woke up slowly, loving the way Rodney felt in his arms. He had to admit, it was nice to not have Kavanagh making snide remarks and generally being an ass. It might be wrong to actually be happy someone went home, but John couldn’t deny that he was very glad at the results of the last elimination.

Evan had popped his head in earlier to say they didn’t have to be anywhere until late afternoon, so it was a chance to sleep in a bit and relax before they all had to gear back up again.

And boy did Rodney sleep. Full-out with sheer enthusiasm did he sleep. Currently he was spread out over as much bed as humanly possible—at least on the side where John wasn't currently lying. On that side, though, he was pressed up against him as close as he could be with clothes on.

It was a bit disconcerting to realize he was already fantasizing about waking up this way every day for the rest of his life. He had only known Rodney a few short weeks, and they hadn't even had sex yet—well, not real, full-out sex. But John couldn't deny that he was very quickly spiraling into a permanent orbit around the other man.

Thankfully Evan had pulled the door closed when he'd left before since John could hear the rest of the apartment rising. Pots and pans banged in the kitchen, conversations and laughter carried over the air. A few higher-pitched voices alerted him that the girls were making their way over to visit, too. Pulling the blankets up a little higher, John wouldn't put it past some of them to try and sneak a peek.

Rodney huffed and shifted on the bed. By the time he was done moving he was cuddled up against John's chest, his arm thrown over his waist, face tucked somewhere in the neighborhood of John's armpit. He huffed a few more times and then his breathing was steady again in slumber.

God this was... John's chest hurt in a good way, and he didn't know how to even begin to describe it. Lowering his head, he inhaled the unique scent he was coming to associate with Rodney, letting it fill all his senses.

He was wide awake and had to pee, but he didn't want to move from this spot or risk spoiling the moment. Closing his eyes again, he cataloged the warmth of Rodney's body, the way it felt where skin touched skin... everything.

He couldn't help it, but he started running his hands along Rodney's body, getting to know what the other man felt like, how it felt under his fingers.

He knew it was dangerous. They had agreed no sex until after Project Runway was over, but... all that warm skin, just there, begging for him to stroke it... John was only human. And the fact that Rodney was like a furnace when he slept didn't make it any easier to ignore either. His skin was warm and smooth, the hair soft.

Certain parts of John's anatomy were starting to get a little too excited. With a sigh, he forced himself to press a kiss into Rodney's hair, and then gently detangle himself for a bathroom run.

When he returned less than two minutes later Rodney was stretched out across the two twin beds, more or less taking up all the available space. Shaking his head, John sat down on the edge of the bed, content for the moment just to watch.

A few minutes later, there was a light knock on the door and it then it was opening, Radek poking his head inside. "Are you decent?"

"Yeah." John smiled. "Rodney's still sleeping, but I'm up. What's up?"

"Breakfast and coffee. Did you wish either? They are attempting to cook in kitchen and I believe the experiment has been at least partially successful."

Grinning, John stood up. "Coffee, for sure. I'll come grab two cups, since we all know how Rodney is if he misses out on his drug of choice."

"Oh, yes, we have gotten rid of three terrors and do not wish for another. Coffee it is," he said, heading back into the kitchen a few beats later, the door half open.

John stood again and stretched, padding out behind him. He was just in his boxers, but he ignored the catcalls from the girls sitting around the counter.

"So we know what you were doing this morning," Laura said with a smirk and a wink as he eyed him up and down.

Rolling his eyes, John headed for the coffee pot. "Sleeping in."

"So that's what you call it these days."

"We didn't have sex, if that's what you're asking."

Lorne pointed to two mugs on the counter. "Those are for you."

"Awesome, thanks." It didn't take him long to make them the way he liked, and the way he knew Rodney liked. "Be right back."

"Take your time, tiger," Vala said with a chuckle from where she was perched in Daniel's lap. "You'll both enjoy it more."

Resisting the urge to shoot back another denial, he just rolled his eyes again and made his way back to the bedroom. Setting Rodney's cup on the small table near the bed, John sipped on his own, waiting to see if the smell would wake the other man.

Sure enough, less than two minutes—and three sips later—Rodney was stirring.

"Morning."

"Coffee?"

"On the table, hot and just the way you like it."

"Mmmm," Rodney hummed and then stretched, reminding John of a cat. Rodney stretched what seemed like every single limb and muscle before pushing himself up and grabbing the mug of coffee.

Telling his dick now was not the time wasn't really helping, so John just tried to ignore it. "Sleep well?"

"Mmm mm," he replied, sitting up in the bed and sipping at his coffee, his eyes still half closed.

John had to swallow hard. God damn, Rodney was sexy.

He drank half of his coffee before he moved again, finally lifting his head to look at John. "This is perfect. Thanks."

"Mmmm, my pleasure, trust me."

Rodney raised an eyebrow as he took another sip.

"You really have no idea how much you turn me on, do you? Just watching you sleep has me hard as a rock."

"And I was unconscious for that?"

"I had to get up if I wanted to keep my promise not to start anything until the show is over. That's why I'm over here, and not in bed with you."

"You had to do be doing more than just looking, though."

"Just laying there next to you all warm and smelling so good..." John had to shift to ease the pressure in his boxers.

"Uh huh." Rodney gave him a disbelieving look. "What else? Don't tell me you jerked off when I was sleeping."

"No. I was tempted, but I resisted."

"But you did more than look. You touched, didn't you?"

"If you count your arm and part of your side touching, then yes."

"Uh huh. And my back. And ass."

"No, I stayed away from your ass. It would have been more than I could stand to start and not be able to finish."

Rodney narrowed his eyes and smirked a little behind his cup. "You so did not stay away from it."

"You would be on your stomach with my dick buried so deep inside you could taste it if I had."

"I know what I felt."

John raised an eyebrow. "Having sex dreams about me?"

"No, but do you honestly think I can sleep that soundly?" By this time Rodney was grinning up at him, his eyes twinkling a little.

"Mmm, I'll have to test that theory some time."

Rodney chuckled before drinking down the rest of his coffee and offering the empty mug to John. "Feel like a trip to the kitchen?"

"Sure. There's breakfast out there I haven't looked at yet. But I am hungry."

"You could…always…you know, bring some in here and eat it in bed with me. You know, if you were so inclined."

"Mmm, we could." John wiggled his eyebrows.

"Sounds like a plan, but you need to actually go to the kitchen to get the food."

Laughing, John held out his hand for Rodney's cup. "I'm assuming you want a refill as well."

"Of course," Rodney said with a smile, and then gestured to the bathroom. "I'll be right out."

John wandered out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, setting the cups next to the coffee pot, which was brewing a fresh batch. He eyed the food. "What was good?"

"Depends," Lorne said. "You like living dangerously?"

"Not so much. I'm looking for something which tastes good."

"You might want to make something yourself or order out," Lorne said with a shrug. "Sorry."

Huffing, he looked around and spotted a loaf of bread. Digging in the fridge, John found the makings for French toast, glad the one thing he was decent at cooking breakfast-food-wise, was pretty much all standard ingredients.

Ten minutes later he had a huge plate of food—and three people nearly drooling on his shoulder.

"Okay, what's with all the invading of personal space?"

"That smells wonderful," Radek said.

"It's just French toast."

"You do not know what Daniel made for breakfast. Claimed it was exotic. I called it inedible."

"I can leave this stuff out for you guys if you want..." He tried to edge around them with his plate.

"You give us the food now, we'll stop harassing you," Laura said.

"This is mine!"

"You can make more," Laura said, sliding closer.

John eyed her. "If I give you this plate, will you promise to stop bothering Rodney and I about sex?"

"I promise, yes," she said immediately, nodding.

"Deal." John handed her the plate. French toast didn't take that long to make.

Lorne and Radek complained immediately, but she held the plate close. "I made the deal. What will you offer me in exchange for some fantastic French toast?"

Shaking his head, John was glad he hadn't even had time to let the pan cool down.

A few minutes later and he managed to get out of the kitchen unscathed, thankful that the other three were still arguing about who was going to get the last slice.

John slipped back into the bedroom. "Rodney?"

Rodney was waiting for him on the bed, the sheet pulled up over his legs, pooling in his lap. His t-shirt, though, seemed to be missing. He looked a little…nervous. "I thought I'd lost you."

"I made French toast and got mobbed. On the plus side, I exchanged the first plate for a deal from Cadman to let up on badgering us."

"For how long?"

John opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "I didn't even think to ask that. But here, I made you breakfast..."

"Come on," he said with a nervous smile, gesturing John forward. "We're going to eat together, right?"

John's eyes roamed down to where the sheet covered. His body started getting excited so he moved closer, handing over the plate. "Of course."

Rodney managed to lift the sheet for John to slide in next to him and John caught sight of a whole lot of white skin.

He froze and then every part of him came to full and complete attention.

The blush trailing down Rodney's chest just added to everything. "So…ah…hungry?" Rodney asked as he let go of the edge of the sheet.

"Not for French toast." John reached out, letting a single finger touch skin.

"We should eat, make sure we have our strength…you know, for later."

"Rodney." It came out as more of a breath than a word, and then John was kissing him. He couldn't have stopped it if he had wanted to try.

Rodney let out a strange gasp-whine sound, but got with the program fairly quickly. That only served to part his lips enough for John to get his tongue into the act.

Rodney tasted like toothpaste and coffee and something else. It was the most intoxicating flavor he had ever tasted.

"We can't…" Rodney whispered between kisses, "but I want…we shouldn't…I need…"

While they kissed, John's hands weren't idle. They slid south, and encountering no resistance, had found their target. "Rodney, God..."

"Breakfast…" he said, groaning as John stroked him. "Getting cold."

"We have a microwave."

Rodney had worked his way down John's neck, kissing and nipping and sucking at the skin. With a moan, John's hips bucked, seeking friction.

Rodney yelped as the plate with the French toast went flying, but he ignored it—and the syrup dampening the sheet—concentrating on John's neck instead. They rolled around until, like magic, their cocks were aligned and John had to moan again at how good it felt.

"Yeah…like that," Rodney breathed, his hands sliding down John's back.

"Oh God…Rodney... I'm not gonna last..."

"Come on…want you…"

"Come, need to come."

They shifted and rolled back and forth, tangling the sheets—and their breakfast—around their legs, settling them even closer together. Rodney's hands wouldn't stop moving, stroking and caressing skin from the nape of John's neck all the way to his ass.

John managed to capture his lips again, and dove in for another deep, dirty kiss.

Rodney bucked against him, rolling them again so he was on the bottom.

John used the new leverage to grind down, getting even more friction on both their swollen cocks.

Rodney groaned, hands grasping and squeezing along John's back and his ass, fingers digging in.

It didn't take much longer for either of them. As soon as John felt the hot splash of Rodney coming, he was right behind, with a low moan.

They panted into each other's mouth as they came down from their high, sweat coating their bodies.

John mouthed at Rodney's skin, not willing to give up the connection just yet.

"You came in your shorts," Rodney said with a soft chuckle.

"You had me so hot, I couldn't even stop to take them off. Now I'm sticky." John lifted his head to give Rodney a soft smile.

"And our feet are stuck in sheets and maple syrup."

He couldn't help it, John started to laugh softly before leaning in for another kiss, this one more sweet than dirty. "Think of it as a good reason to shower together."

"But it was good, wasn't it?" Rodney asked after a few more minutes of kissing.

"Better than good."

"Mmm….good. This was a good way to wake up."

"I could wake up this way every morning, and be a very, very happy man."

"Mmm…only one thing would make it better."

"What's that?" John nibbled on the side of Rodney's neck.

"Hot breakfast," he said even as he shifted under John, tilting his neck to the side.

Laughing, John nipped playfully. "Well, next time don't distract me with all this sexy skin if you want to eat first. But there is enough for me to make another batch after we shower."

"It's not my fault you couldn't control yourself. I was perfectly fine with eating before we started our morning…exercise."

"I couldn't help it. I've been wanting you like this for too many days now to be able to control myself."

Rodney huffed, but didn't argue, his stomach picking that moment to growl.

John grinned. "Let's get cleaned up so I can make you more French toast."

"Might be a good idea, although maybe we should consider lunch by now," Rodney said, trying to shift, but their feet were still tangled in the sheets.

Sitting up, John managed to get them free before leading Rodney to the bathroom. "I can make whatever sounds good."

"Food. I'm starving. I might have worked up an appetite," Rodney said with a grin.

"Oh, I wonder how." John started the water and pulled Rodney into the shower with him.

Rodney hummed in contentment, slid in next to John, and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Oh, I could get used to this."

John relaxed into the other man's body, privately admitting to himself that he wasn't sure he'd be able to give it up. He was already hooked.

They eventually got down to business, cleaning up themselves and each other and got dressed, heading into the main part of the apartment. Daniel and Vala were sitting on the couch—close together—talking about something. Radek, Cadman, and Lorne were at the breakfast bar playing cards.

John nodded to them, heading back to the kitchen to pull out all the stuff for French toast again. At least it was quick and easy.

Rodney was puttering with the coffee pot, humming to himself. Laura kept giving John these long looks—but she didn't ask anything.

He avoided her stares as much as possible, sitting down with Rodney and passing a new plate across, accepting a fresh cup of coffee before they both dug in.

The stares got heavier the longer they talked quietly and ate brunch. Rodney's eyes kept sliding over to the three of them every few minutes.

John sighed and glanced over at them. "Is there something you want to say?"

"Nope!" Laura replied immediately. "Nothing at all."

He rolled his eyes but went back to finishing his breakfast.

"You know," Rodney said a few minutes later, "she's going to burst a blood vessel."

"I know." John smirked.

"It's kind of funny in a watching a train wreck way."

John chuckled, shaking his head. "You done? I'll do the dishes."

"I can…" Rodney said, moving to get up.

They both blinked as Vala swooped in and took all the dishes. "Fair is fair. You cooked, we clean."

"Weren't you just…" Rodney's hand waved, "exploring Jackson's tonsils?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"How were you paying attention to when John and I finished breakfast?"

"Women are capable of multi-tasking." She waved her hand breezily.

Rodney snorted, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

John looked around. "Any word yet on when and where we're headed this afternoon?"

"You mean in an hour?" Laura perked up from the breakfast bar. "And I have no idea."

"An hour?" John and Rodney's heads both snapped over to her. "I thought we had more time than that."

"You were busy for most of the morning," Laura said with a smirk. "And loud, too."

John raised an eyebrow at her. "We weren't loud."

Lorne glanced up and coughed. "Actually…"

"We weren't!"

Vala patted his shoulder as she grabbed some more dishes from him. "You were, honey. No need to ask how it went, either."

John felt his face heating up.

"You should get ready, tiger," she said moving to the sink. "We have work to do this afternoon."

John shot her a look, then grabbed Rodney's hand, tugging him into the bedroom. "Come on, let's go get dressed."

Rodney was quiet until they got inside the room, the door closed behind them. "We weren't that loud, were we? I'm sorry. I didn't think—"

"We weren't. I think they're just trying to get a rise out of us." John pulled him in for another kiss. It took a few seconds before Rodney relaxed into him, before he started humming into the kiss.

God, it was just so good. John wondered how anyone could taste this amazing.

The banging at the door startled them apart. "Less sex, more dressing." Cadman could be a real buzzkill.

John sighed. "Much as I hate to admit it, she's right. If we want to go to the final two, we have to work today."

"I know," Rodney sighed, heading for the closet. "Granted, right now I just want to sleep."

"Once we get there and get the next challenge, it will be better."

"Maybe. I'm thinking it'll just get more cut-throat."

"Of course. The further in we get, the more everyone wants to win. We just have to stick together, and we can take final two."

"Maybe," Rodney said sighing. He dug around in his closet pulling out clothes and throwing then toward the bed. One made it. The rest ended up somewhere in the middle.

Smiling, John picked them up and laid them out for the other man before deciding what he wanted to wear.

Half of his clothes were still in the other room, but he figured he could probably figure out something to wear with what he had. He was a fashion designer after all.

By the time they wandered back out, he was gearing up for the next challenge. He hoped it was something good.

It could be anything, anything at all. I mean, they'd had one with ribbons and buttons for Christ's sake. Anything would be an improvement.

The producers herded them into the vans, and while Cadman stuck close to him and Rodney and continued to send them suggestive looks, she at least stayed true to the deal and didn't ask. Thankfully Vala was in one of the other cars with Jackson—probably trying to locate his tonsils again.

They arrived at a rather severe looking building, especially for New York, where flashier was usually better. Piling out, they made their way into the lobby, where... it looked like the military had dumped all their old fashion designs. Weird.

They were lead into another room lined with shelves and display cases of weapons from all over the world. A tall bald man was standing alongside Tim, dressed in a perfectly-pressed military uniform.

Okay... what the hell were they going to have them do? Tim smiled at them. "Welcome designers. I'd like you all to meet Stephen Caldwell, a well-known cult designer whose fashions are all based on military uniforms of some sort."

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you today," Caldwell said with a tight smile. "I got a late start in the fashion industry. I served in the military for twenty years before retiring to start designing clothes. From standard battle dress uniforms—or BDUs—to the more striking dress uniforms, I've worn them all and all of my work is inspired by the men and women serving."

Huh. John got more interested. He had considered joining the Air Force when he was younger because he had dreams of flying, but that whole don't ask don't tell thing would have been a real drag.

Tim picked up the thread. "Your challenge this week is going to be to design an outfit inspired by military uniforms. Stephen has built an impressive collection of uniforms from all over the world, and through all different periods of time. You'll have one hour to wander through and be inspired by them before getting thirty minutes to sit down and sketch."

"Make sure to remember that these designs need to be practical and wearable," Caldwell said. "They need to be constructed to withstand some tough conditions."

Tim nodded. "This week, you'll be judged not just on the aesthetic of your designs, but also on how functional they would be. You're free to choose any class of uniform, from dress to combat, but we'll expect you to stay true to the purpose behind that class."

Rodney muttered curses under his breath when Tim and Caldwell walked away, leaving them to wander through the collections of weapons and uniforms in the building.

John found himself gravitating to the combat stuff—he noticed most of the others were looking almost exclusively at the dress uniforms, which, in his opinion, was a bit of a cop-out. He studied how the uniforms were put together for all the different cultures and time periods, noting the similarities and differences, and making mental notes about what he would need to include and what he thought he could play with a bit.

"This is going to be some kind of a freak show," Rodney commented when he passed John at one point, headed to some of the uniforms from overseas.

Grinning, John nodded. "An interesting challenge though. It's one thing to play with designs we all know no one else will ever wear, but it's another to try and come up with ways to improve something that's always been more functional than decorative."

"I guess," he huffed, rolling his eyes as he moved away.

At the end of the hour, John had some ideas he wanted to get on paper, so he was excited when they were allowed to crack their sketchbooks. He immediately put down the four rough ideas he had been tossing around, wanting to see how they looked on paper before deciding which one to flesh out.

Radek dropped down next to him at one point, his hair a little more scary than usual.

John glanced over. "Hey. How is it going?"

"This is…" he shook his head. "Very difficult."

"Really?" John looked at him in surprise. "I was actually thinking this is the most interesting challenge yet."

"It…" he ran his hand through his hair. "Things were not good when I was growing up. Painful memories."

"Oh." John bit his lip before reaching out to pat Radek on the leg. "Yeah, I can see why this would suck then. Is there anything that's different enough from what you remember that it's not quite as painful?"

He shook his head. "I see…always see them when they came at night. We'd try not to listen, to hear, but it was hard to ignore my aunt's sobbing."

With a wince, John wished he could help. Radek was a nice guy. "I'm sorry."

"It is not your fault or problem," he said after a few moments, his voice quiet.

"I know. I guess I'm sorry that I can't make it better. I know it's not my fault, but... it doesn't stop me from wishing I could help."

"It just…I will be fine."

"Okay. If there is anything I can do, just let me know, all right?"

"Make me forget their sobs," he said as he rose, moving deeper into the exhibit.

John watched him go, sighing. It was easy to forget in a competition like this that everyone here was human, and not just a body to try and beat.

They headed to Mood to get fabric a little while later, Rodney quietly scowling next to him in the SUV, still working on his sketches as they drove. He cursed every time the driver hit a bump or stopped short.

John had to admit, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He was going to go with a palette of greens for his colors, and he had some great ideas for improving combat fashion.

John gently rubbed the back of Rodney's bowed neck trying to calm him, gentle him, but Rodney more or less ignored him after the first touch when he pressed back briefly into John's hand.

Instead of getting offended, John took it as it was probably meant—Rodney acknowledged him, but needed to focus right now. At Mood, everyone scattered, and from what he saw, a lot of people were really struggling. John found exactly what he needed—no camo, that was just too clichéd—and was the first one to check out.

Rodney's face had darkened considerably by the time he was finished, Mood bag in hand.

"Everything okay?"

"Let's just say that I'm grateful that I have immunity this week."

John grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Once you get started, I'm sure it will come together."

"We'll see," Rodney grumbled. "You all set? Of course you're all set. You've been done shopping for twenty minutes. How did you shop for everything in ten minutes? How did you even find your fabric in that short amount of time? I know. You called ahead, didn't you? You made nice to the stock room girls."

Chuckling, John shook his head. "No, I just knew exactly what I was looking for. I have a pretty clear vision for this one."

Rodney huffed. "And I can't believe we don't get to work tonight. Just tomorrow. That's stupid."

"They want to keep us on our toes I guess. As we get closer to the end, I bet they'll give us less and less time."

"Great, just great. Like we need more pressure. I'm about ready to blow as is."

"Just keep reminding yourself its reality TV. They want us to blow."

Rodney snorted and rolled his eyes, heading toward the cars as soon as he saw the signal.

They were allowed to go back to the workroom and drop off their stuff, with thirty minutes to organize, and then they had to leave. The producers brought them all out to a nice restaurant for dinner.

It was nice, but John could tell that most of the contestants' minds were back in the workroom, going over what they needed to get done the next day. Rodney was one of them, eating sparingly and playing with his food more than actually consuming it.

They were told the vans would be leaving at 5am the following morning, so it was an incentive for everyone to get to bed as soon as they were back at the suites. Tomorrow would be a very busy day.

Rodney was silent as he got ready for bed, lost in his own thoughts. Radek was curled in a corner of the couch drinking vodka from the looks of it. Daniel and Vala were chatting quietly in the kitchen—something about your bed or mine. John really didn't want to know.

He slipped into what he now thought of as his old room, grabbing clean clothes for the next day.

Lorne stepped out of the bathroom as he was digging in the closet. "So…"

"Hmm?" John glanced over, trying to decide which black shirt would be best for the next day.

"It's serious, isn't it?" He was leaning against the doorframe, jeans unbuttoned and sitting low on his hips.

While he could still appreciate that Evan was a fine man, he found his attention was still in the other room, on another male body. "I... yeah. I think so."

Lorne nodded, his expression quiet, closed. "You're good for him. He's not as testy now."

John flushed a little. "I don't know. I just... I like him. A lot."

"We can all tell."

His blush got brighter from the heat on his cheeks. "Sorry. We'll try to tone it down."

Lorne shrugged. "It's not my business, but I had thought we had something."

John sighed. "We did, and if I hadn't met him...but this could be something. Something permanent maybe. I can't pass up a chance at it."

Lorne's eyes dropped and he nodded. He shifted away from the wall, turning back into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

John sighed again. He really hadn't meant to lead Evan on, and he felt horrible about it. Grabbing his clothes, he made his way into the other bedroom.

Rodney was still in the bathroom. He could hear the sound of running water through the door.

Laying out his clothes on one of the now-empty beds, John puttered, then sat down and put his head between his hands, trying to convince himself it wasn't his fault.

Rodney emerged a few minutes later, shutting off the lights behind him. "Oh, you're back."

"Yeah. I just grabbed some clean clothes so I'll have them handy after we shower in the morning."

"Oh. Good thinking." Rodney offered a quick smile as he headed to his side of the bed. "Bathroom's yours."

"Thanks." John stood up, and despite his guilt, he snagged Rodney's arm, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

Rodney kissed him back and gave him a puzzled look when he pulled back. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just feeling a bit of angst. I'll be fine."

"Oh. Okay," Rodney said giving him another look, but obviously shrugging it off, taking John's words at face value. "I'll be here," he said, pointing to the bed.

"I won't be long. I just want to brush my teeth."

"Well, I'll be here."

John smiled, slipping into the bathroom and quickly getting himself ready for bed. It was only about ten minutes later when he wandered back out. Rodney was in bed—like he said he would be—lying on his back, blankets pulled up over his chest, his arms lying on top. He was staring at the ceiling.

"Hey." John slid under the covers next to him. A little thrill went through him at the comfortable way they just slotted together.

"Hey," he said, offering a small smile when he glanced over at John. "I'm just…thinking…about tomorrow and the design."

"Yeah? What do you have in mind for it?"

"I'm not sure, honestly. I bought fabric, but I don't know if it's really what I wanted to use."

"So try talking it out. See if it sparks any ideas."

"I just…" he sighed, hands waving a little. "I've been going over again and again. I wanted something practical—pockets and places to put stuff—but it's all bulky and a mess."

John nodded. "You're going for combat style? What about designing some kind of backpack or detachable storage that could be dropped if need be?"

"I didn't buy clips."

"Hmmm. If you went with a backpack sort of thing, you wouldn't need them. I plan to do a vest for similar reasons. You could always do that, too."

Rodney sighed. "I don’t know."

"Play with the fabric a bit tomorrow and see how you feel. I'm sure you'll come up with something awesome."

"Maybe."

"Don't worry about it and try to get some sleep." John pressed a kiss to Rodney's neck. "You'll work better well-rested."

"I work better after sex. Or so I've been told, but we're not going to do that here. At least not everything here."

One eyebrow went up. "Oh really? I'll keep that in mind. And I'm here to be used in any way you need to feel more productive."

Rodney huffed again, shifting on the bed as he curled in toward John.

Chuckling, John closed his eyes, letting his body relax. "Night, Rodney."

"Night," he said, the word drawn out as it turned into a yawn.

The next morning came god-awful early, with everyone looking dead on their feet as they climbed into the vans. There was an endless supply of coffee, and they would need it. Daniel actually asked one of the production assistants if he had an IV drip for the coffee. John wasn't sure if Daniel was kidding or not.

Once they arrived, it was kind of weird how quiet the workroom was. With less time, and a lot of people really up in the air about their designs, everyone was pretty much putting their heads down and getting to work. The usual banter and jokes were absent today.

John was actually surprised at the fabric Rodney had picked. He'd assumed Rodney had gone for the dark BDU colors, but instead he'd picked beige and tan—not quite desert camo, but close. It would be interesting to see what he came up with.

John decided to start on his pants first, working on a cargo-style design with pockets that closed with Velcro. He had some of the same concerns about bulk that Rodney did, but he was compensating by using different fabric in another shade of green for the pockets, tricking the eye into seeing that instead of just bulk.

The day went by in a whirlwind of fabric, thread, needles, and models—with food shoved in front of his face for good measure.

By midnight, when they had to stop, John felt like a total zombie.

But tomorrow was the runway show and they only had three hours in the morning to finish. Three hours was not going to be enough time.

He spent the entire drive back to the apartment mentally going over everything that was left, and prioritizing it, making a mental list to go down so at least when he didn't finish, the most important stuff would be done.

Rodney took all the pressure like a man—falling asleep in the car with his face pressed to John's shoulder, drooling on his shirt. Despite the stress, it made John smile, his heart skipping a few times with happiness.

He woke—barely—when they arrived at the apartment, letting John and Radek direct him to the elevator and into the suite, more or less sleep walking the whole way. John managed to somehow get them both into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

John wasn't expecting the hand around his dick in the morning, however.

He woke up with a gasp, his wet dream suddenly not so much a dream. "Oh, god, yes, please, more..."

Rodney sucked at the skin on his neck, his hand stroking perfectly.

John moaned, bucking up into the perfect grip.

"Shhhh."

"Rodney... god... please..."

"Shhhhh…" he repeated, whispering right into his ear, his tongue tracing the edge of the lobe. "You'll wake the rest of the apartment."

Panting, John turned his face into the pillow, trying to muffle the noises he couldn't stop.

It didn't take much more, a few more strokes with a slight twist on the end, and he was coming, the pillow not muffling anything.

John floated, his orgasm letting him down slowly.

"We'll see if it helps you today," Rodney said lightly. John could hear the smirk in his tone.

"Mmmmmmm."

Rodney chuckled deeply. "Good."

John managed to turn his head to look over. "You?"

"Not going to say no," he said with a smile.

Humming, John got his body working and crawled down Rodney's body. He wanted to taste.

Rodney was hard, his cock beautiful as it curved up toward his stomach. They were both naked, John realized, vaguely trying to remember when that had happened.

He took his time, licking over the head, running his tongue up and down the soft skin of the shaft. He could spend all day like this.

Rodney was moaning quietly, fist shoved into his mouth to muffle his sounds of pleasure.

Slowly, John took part of Rodney in his mouth, focusing just on the head for now. He wanted to make this good. And he loved the sounds Rodney made as he tried to be quiet. The half-broken moans and sobs just made him want to do more.

When John finally took all of Rodney, the other man was leaking at the tip, and making the most delicious sounds.

"Please…John…please…I need…"

Without warning, John sucked him hard, humming at the same time.

Rodney cursed and came, his body shuddering as he climaxed. John drank it all down, swallowing every drop, and then licking Rodney clean for good measure.

Glancing up, he smirked, loving the completely broken and sated expression on Rodney's face—pleased he was the one who put it there.

"Maybe you'll be the one who's more focused today."

Rodney opened and closed his mouth twice before sound actually came out. "Broke me."

That just made John chuckle as he climbed back up to lie along side Rodney's body.

"Bastard."

"You loved it."

"Maybe."

"You did."

"I lost IQ points."

"You had some to spare."

Rodney snorted. "Not enough if this is going to happen every time we have sex. And who knows how many I'll lose when we actually fuck."

John hummed, rubbing against Rodney's side. "It will be amazing."

"Maybe," Rodney said, the word breathy as he exhaled.

"Oh, it will. And I want at least a full twenty-four hours for it. I want to seduce you."

Rodney picked up his head, turning it toward John. "You are trying to kill me off to get the top spot, aren't you?"

"I plan to take my time with you. I want to explore your body at my leisure, and not have to worry about someone next door, or producers, or the next challenge. I won't fuck you until we're done with the show, because I want your full, and undivided, attention."

"You are going to kill me," he said with a huff, his head falling back onto the pillow just as the alarm clock starts blaring next to them.

John sat up to turn it off, making sure to brush as much of their bodies together as he could. "But what a way it would be to go."

Rodney huffed again and rolled his eyes. "Another day of torture. I wonder if Cadman will hum the entire day again."

"Probably. I've noticed she does it when she's nervous, and this one has most of the contestants nervous for some reason."

"How can she not drive you crazy? I can hear her two tables over. She's right next to you."

"I just tune her out."

"How can you!? It's off key and just…horrible."

John laughed as they rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. "I just... tune it out."

"It drills into your brain," Rodney continued, following John out of the bed."I mean, it's not even a real song, but it sticks in your brain, eating away at what little concentration you do have…"

"Yeah, I don't have that problem. It doesn't really bother me."

"How can it not bother you? It's like nails on a chalkboard," he said, moving around John to the sink as he started getting ready—ignoring the fact that John was there, poised over the bowl.

"It just doesn't. When I'm working, I tune out everything around me."

Rodney poked at his face a few times before running his fingers through his hair as he leaned into the mirror. "I don't know how you can ignore it. It's like nails on a chalkboard, nails on a chalkboard," he said, making a face in the mirror as he eyeballed his teeth.

"You said that already."

"Repeating it for emphasis," he said, picking at one of his teeth. He shifted his eyes in the mirror to look at John. "Are you just going to stand there or are you actually going to do something?"

John grinned. "I'm enjoying watching you."'

That made Rodney turn to scowl at him. "Some other people have to piss, too, you know."

Laughing, John shook his head and got down to business, getting himself ready for the day. It was interesting—to say the least—getting ready with Rodney. Very domestic. There was something soothing about it, which, as they all piled in the vans, left him relaxed and ready for whatever was thrown at them instead of worried and tense.

Once they got to Parsons, it was a frantic mess since they only had a few hours to finish before they had the runway show.

As they watched their designs go in front of the judges, John decided he was pretty happy with his. It hadn't come out exactly as planned, but on this show, nothing ever did. He had, he thought, managed to achieve his vision.

Rodney was sitting in the row in front of him, squirming as his garment made it down the runway, muttering under his breath. It was…different, but safe at the same time.

When it was over, everyone filed on stage to hear who the top and bottom three would be.

"John, Laura, Evan, Sam, Rodney, and Sha're, please step forward."

They all stepped forward, looking at each other.

"You represent the best and worst of the designs this week. Everyone's name that was not called may leave the runway," Heidi said.

John watched the others file off the stage, and wondered who was top and who was bottom. The designs had been all over the place this week, so it was hard to say.

Heidi paused as they settled back into their places on the runway, their models joining them a few moments later.

John smiled, trying to look confident. He really did like his design, and he'd stand by it, even if the judges didn't like it.

Heidi glanced up from her cards. "Rodney, please step forward."

John glanced over as the other man fidgeted.

"Rodney, you are safe this week because you were last week's winner," Heidi said. "Your design was bland and unremarkable. Be glad you had immunity this week. You are safe. You may leave the stage."

Swallowing, John watched him leave. God, he wished he was back there to comfort him. But at least he was safe to fight another week.

Heidi went down the line, asking her typical questions about the designs on display. The judges, though, weren't giving much away when it came to who was on top or bottom this week. Everyone seemed to be getting harsh comments.

When they filed off stage so the judges could deliberate, John dropped onto the couch next to Rodney. "Hey. How are you doing?"

"Oh fine for the abysmal designer I apparently am."

"You won last week, don't forget that. This just wasn't your challenge."

"And apparently sex doesn't work as well as it used to."

"This one just wasn't yours. You'll be in the top next time."

"And maybe I'll be…out."

"You won't."

"You don't know that." He sighed, glancing away. "So, how did you do?"

John hugged him. "I don't know. They were criticizing everyone, so for once I don't really know who's top and who's bottom. I think we're all in danger, to be honest."

Rodney was tense in John's arms for a few moments before finally allowing his body to relax against John. "Least they got the bottom part right."

Chuckling, John nuzzled at Rodney's neck, pressing a kiss into the warm skin.

"Think they watch?"

"Who?"

"Heidi and Tim and Michael," Rodney said, waving his hand. "To the apartment footage."

"Why would they watch what goes on in the apartment? I doubt they care."

Rodney shrugged. "I was just wondering, you know, if they've seen us."

John smiled, nuzzling a bit more. "If they have, then I bet they're jealous of me getting to have you."

"Okay, we both know that's not true." Rodney shook his head. "I was just wondering how much they really see on those cameras."

"It is true. I'm seriously lucky." John kissed his neck again.

Rodney hummed, not arguing, as he shifted again, relaxed against John's chest.

John smiled, relaxing himself. He didn't think his had been bad enough to send him home, so he wasn't worrying too much. Not even an hour later the production assistants were calling for them back on the runway. The decision had been made quickly.

John gave Rodney's hand a squeeze before following the others back out on stage. This was always the hardest part.

They made their way back to the runway, spaced evenly apart under the spotlights. The judges' faces were neutral as they settled into place. Heidi spoke a few moments later. "This week you were challenged to present a practical military-inspired garment. One of you will be the winner and one of you will be out."

She looked up and down the runway. John felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck.

"We were not impressed by any of the designs this week," she said bluntly. "They showed a lack of imagination and in some cases a lack of skill and ability."

"Evan and Sam, you are both safe this week, but we expect more from you. You're staying based on the strength of your past designs, and the potential we see in you. Next week, we expect more. You may leave the runway."

They muttered quiet "thank yous" before hightailing it off the runway. He didn't blame either of them, honestly.

"Laura, your design this week was the closest to what we had hoped from this challenge. That makes you this week's winner."

Laura audibly gulped. "I…thank you."

"You may leave the runway, and you have immunity during next week's elimination."

"Thank you, thank you," she muttered, heading off the runway at a good pace. John guessed she was probably holding herself back from running off—barely.

Great. Bottom two. John did his best not to fidget.

"John," Heidi said nailing him a look before moving to his right. "Sha're. Your scores put you in the bottom this week."

John took a deep breath. He had thought he had done well. This sucked.

"John, your garment looked awkward and not practical in any way. Sha're, you went for practical at the expense of fashion—and your sewing skills make it look like a kindergartener's project."

He winced.

"Honestly, I expected better from both of you this week. I think all of us did," Heidi said.

John mentally braced himself. He was going home.

"John," she said, looking at him. "You are in."

He blinked. He didn't believe what he had just heard. "I..."

Heidi had already turned away from him. "Sha're, I’m sorry, but that means you're out."

They all blinked when she suddenly burst into tears. John did the only thing he could thing he could think of, and put his arms around her.

"Congratulations, John," Heidi said. "You can both leave the runway."

He nodded, giving them a weak smile as he gently tried to herd Sha're off the stage. "Thank you."

She was sobbing hard now, her entire body shaking. As soon as they yelled "cut" Two production assistants were there, taking her from him and leading them back into the green room.

John followed along behind them in a daze. Close. God, that had been close.

Rodney was waiting for him, standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and panicked. "What happened? Are you…?"

"Almost. I was... it came down to me or her, and I barely managed to stay."

Rodney was enveloping him in a hug seconds later, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat. "We can't…god, we're going to screw this up."

John melted into the hug, needing the reassurance. "We can do this. We are doing this."

"We have to concentrate on the competition. We have to."

"Yes. I know. We have to be the final two."

"We have to get our heads on straight. Next week there is no immunity. It's all or nothing."

John took a deep breath. "I know. We have to focus on our designs."

Rodney stepped back. "I can't…I can't do both."

"What?" John blinked at him.

"I can't…" He paused, his eyes looking anywhere except at John.

John curled his fingers around Rodney's chin, forcing him to look. "We can back off until this is over, but we're not ending it."

Tim walked in then, moving to Sha're. "Well, I have to say that I was very surprised by this week's challenge, but we all know what has to happen now, don't we? Sha're, I need to ask you to clean up your workstation."

The woman started sobbing again, this time in Daniel's arms. Daniel looked like he wanted to cry, too.

"I'll…go with her," Daniel said, but stopped when Tim shook his head.

"She needs to do this on her own, I'm afraid. The rest of you, the vans are waiting to take you to dinner."

Rodney had shifted away from John during the exchange, curled in on himself—arms crossed over his chest, shoulders rounded, head bowed.

They all filed out, and John made a point of sliding up to Rodney in the elevator, pressing in close.

The other man didn't react, didn't shift against him like he had before.

John leaned in. "Don't do this. It's not an all or nothing thing."

Rodney shifted away from him. "It has to be."

"Why?"

"I just…does."

"Why?"

Rodney just shook his head as the doors opened, moving out with the rest of the contestants.

John couldn't let it drop that easily. He waited through dinner, through the small talk. Waited until they were back at the apartment, when he could follow Rodney into the bedroom. But Rodney wouldn't stop moving, shifting restlessly from one side of the room to the other, barely pausing at all.

"Why does it have to be either or, Rodney?" John asked softly. "I agree that we both need to refocus on the game, but why does that mean nothing between us? Nothing has changed in how I feel about you."

"I can't concentrate," Rodney muttered. "I…I need to…I can't screw this up."

"Me neither. This isn't a lark for me any more than you. That's why I want to see us make final two. We both need it."

"Then we need to stop. We have to. This week should have showed us that we can't do this."

"All it's shown us is that we got a little too distracted. But that doesn't mean we should stop. I don't know about you, but trying to stay away would be more distracting than being with you, but forcing ourselves to compete when we're called to do so."

"You don't understand," Rodney said, turning toward him, his eyes earnest and pleading. "I can't do it. I can't do both. Not now."

"Why? Give me a real reason."

"Because I can't," Rodney said, nearly yelling the words, his hands twisted in the t-shirt he was holding.

"Why not?" John moved closer to him. "I know you want this as much as I do, both to win, and to see where this thing between us goes. But you want to throw it away before we even have a chance to start. Why?"

"I can't do both now and I need this money, John. You don't understand and I can't even begin to explain it to you. If I don't get my mind in the game I'll have ruined the one chance I've ever had to make something of myself. I can't let it slide by. I can't."

"So you'll throw us away before we even have a chance?"

"I'm sorry."

"You know that if I walk out of here tonight, I don't know if I'll be able to come back if you ever change your mind. I've been hurt, too, Rodney."

"I have to stop thinking with my dick and start thinking with my head. I have to."

"So that's all you see me as?" John felt himself starting to close down. "Just a pretty face to grace your bed?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's just…complicated."

"So you're going to run away." John didn't make it a question.

Rodney sighed. "Call it a strategic retreat."

"No, call it what it is. You're afraid, so instead of trying to find a solution, you're just going to retreat and cut me out completely."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm arrogant and bad with people and I'm clueless when it comes to social things of any kind. I had plans, lots of plans, and I thought I could have everything—this competition and you—but I can't. I'm a proud man and it takes a lot for me to admit that I can't do what I want."

John shook his head. "You can have both, but you're too determined to see this as an either/or situation. You want it in a neat, tidy box, and it doesn't work that way."

"I can't see it any other way. Don't you think I've tried? Today just proved my point. I can't do both. I can't."

John sighed, sitting down on the bed. "You had immunity. You were safe. We can have it both ways, Rodney. Here in the apartment, we're together, but when we're working, it's hands-off."

Rodney shook his head. "You might be able to compartmentalize, but I can't. I can't just turn it off."

"I can't either, but I can give myself permission to focus on different things. Tell me honestly, Rodney. Do you really think you can just ignore me because you kick me out of the bed? Or will that just make it worse?"

"I don't know, but I can't concentrate with you in my bed."

"Fine. I've tried. You can't accuse me of not trying."

"It's not you. It's me. I fully admit that it's me."

"Yeah, right. I've heard that line before." John let his expression go completely blank. "It always means go fuck yourself."

"I'm sorry," Rodney whispered, his eyes sliding toward the floor.

John didn't bother to say anything else. He just grabbed the few things he had in the room and left, heading back to his old bed. Fortunately, no one else had taken it, since technically all his stuff was still there.

He'd spotted Daniel and Radek in the living room talking quietly, but Evan was in the bedroom puttering around when John walked in. "Hey," he said, "forget something?"

John threw the shirt he was holding hard against the wall and flopped down on the bed to stare at the ceiling.

"O…kay. Want to talk about it?"

"I just got the 'it's not you, it's me' speech."

"Oooo…fuck."

John growled. "Apparently, I'm too much of a fucking distraction to have around. Story of my life. 'You're good in bed, John, but you're not the type of guy I can bring home.' 'Sure, you're cute, John, but my parents don't know I'm gay.' 'Sorry John, I need someone with a different set of skills to be in my life.' Fuck!"

Lorne was quiet for a few minutes moving around the room before he finally sat on the edge of the bed. "Look. He was freaked out today, really freaked out. Maybe he didn't mean it."

John's laugh was harsh. "I tried to get him to talk. But his mind was made up. One more person in my life who tossed me aside because I wasn't fucking good enough. Wasn't what they wanted or needed me to be."

"Hey," Lorne said, nudging him with his hip. "You're better than anyone here and don't let him change your mind."

With a sigh, John didn't fight the roll of the bed that put them in closer contact. "I'm tired of always being second best. Whether it's to someone else, an ideal, or in this case a fucking contest. I always come in second."

"You have the talent and the skill to win this. Don't let this screw with your head."

"The only reason I'm still here is because Sha're played it too safe. Had it been absolutely anyone else on stage with me tonight, I would have gone home."

"Everyone thinks it would have been Rodney going home tonight if it wasn't for the immunity he had."

"That's part of the game. He had immunity, so he wasn't in the running. We've all taken advantage of that."

Evan shrugged. "Look, I don't know what else to tell you. I think he's an asshole most of the time."

John sighed again. "I just have to try to put it all behind me and get refocused I guess. I didn't come here to fall in lo-lust. I came to try and win a fashion contract. I just... have to try and get myself back on track I guess. We don't have that many challenges left."

"We're halfway through. Six are behind us and there's six more ahead of us. It's only going to get harder." Evan paused, licking his lips. "I know this probably isn't the best time to mention this, but if you need some stress relief…"

John managed a little smile. "I hate sleeping alone. Why don't we start there?"

Evan returned the grin, slowly and a little sexily. "Sounds good to me."

John got back up and they both stripped down to boxers before cramming into the little bed. Evan seemed to get that, for tonight at least, John just needed the physical comfort of someone holding him. But who knew what the rest of the competition would bring.

***

Rodney wasn't sure how he managed to sleep or even get himself ready the next morning. His brain was in panic mode as he tried to convince himself that he'd made the right decision.

By screwing around with John, he was screwing up his own chances to actually make something of himself, to succeed and not be the loser his sister thought he was.

So, he started the dance of avoidance—and it seemed like John was of like mind.

In fact, unless Rodney actually looked for him, he didn't see John at all. The other man was at his workstation, but he had moved his work so it was blocking Rodney's ability to see him.

And it was better that way, honestly. Fewer distractions. In the middle of the day, though, he picked up his sketches and his tools and his fabric and moved to the back of the room where one of the other designers had been.

From there, he looked over to see John and Evan chatting, smiling at each other. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but John laughed, the smile making him look younger.

Rodney quickly put his head down, mentally yelling at himself for paying attention, for looking. He had a garment to make. Of course, the damn challenge was for menswear and his model—who he had met this morning—was built just like John.

In fact, as the day went on, he got only a fraction of the work he needed to do finished. Glancing over yet again at John showed the other man chatting with Evan and laughing softly.

Throwing down his half-finished garment, he stormed over to the kitchen to get more coffee and a snack. His garment wasn't complicated—a tight-fitting pair of jeans with a really great top—but he had to get it right.

Cadman wandered in grabbing a cup and watching him. He scowled at her as he moved back to the coffee pot, topping off his mug. She just watched, leaning against one of the walls.

"What?"

She shrugged. "I didn't say anything."

"You're in here and I can tell that you disapprove. I did what I had to do."

"Do you want my opinion, or do you just want validation?"

"I didn't take you for someone who didn't speak your mind. You certainly haven't had an issue with it yet."

She shrugged again. "All right. I think you were stupid. You made a spur of the moment decision based on fear, and hurt him pretty badly. I've heard the reasons you gave for it, and they're bullshit."

"In your opinion."

"Yup. Further, Evan has wanted him since they first met, and he's working the angle hard to try and get John to sleep with him as transition sex."

"They probably already did it," Rodney said, trying not to think about how much that thought hurt. "And it doesn't matter. They're both grown adults and can do whatever the hell they want."

"As a matter of fact, they didn't. Evan certainly wanted to, but John asked to just be held last night. He's hiding it now, but I saw his face last night and this morning. You tore out his heart, tossed it on the ground, and danced on it. That's how he feels. But since you obviously don't care if another guy is trying to move in on him, maybe that's how you really feel after all, and he's better off."

"How the hell do you know what they did last night?"

"I'm nosy and I listened at the door."

"Great. Another stalker," Rodney said, throwing up his hand and rolling his eyes. "Look. I don't need your approval or your opinions. I did what I had to do and I don't care what you think. Got it?"

"Sure. He's better off if you really care that little for him." She glared at him, set down her cup and walked out.

Rodney cursed under his breath and took a deep breath. He should have known they'd all side with John. People always dismissed him, ignored him, and marginalized him. He knew he shouldn't have expected anything else—especially not from these people.

Surprisingly, that night it was Vala who wandered over to where he was sitting by himself on the couch. "So, he was a bad lay, eh? The prettier they are, the worse they are in bed."

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "It was fine, if you really want to know. We didn't do anything too…involved."

"So what did he do wrong?" She leaned in. "You dumped him, and the rumor is he begged. So what's the scoop?"

"What does it matter? What's done is done and I'm the bastard who did it."

Vala shrugged. "When do I not want to know shit like this?"

"And why should I tell you anything? You're just going to repeat it to everyone else and it'll just make things worse because I can't possibly be right. I mean, god, look at him. Of course he didn't do anything wrong so it has to be the bastard Canadian."

She rolled her eyes. "Drama queen much? As a matter of fact, everyone knows it was you that dumped him. Other than Lorne who wants in his pants and Cadman who likes him, everyone else is pretty much convinced he was a douche and that's why you cut him loose."

"Look. It's pretty simple and I'm sure even you can understand," he said, shifting on the couch. "We're here to compete, not to romp. I have too much time invested in this to screw it up with a fuck. Some of us can think with the head on our shoulders—if you know what I mean."

Vala grinned. "Some of us are perfectly capable of doing both at the same time."

"And some of us can't."

"Your loss. So if Evan can't get him into his bed, you mind if I try to convince him to live dangerously and spend a night in mine?"

"Why the hell not? It's not like I have any say as to whose bed he sleeps in, do I?" Rodney got up, angry at himself and the whole damn situation. "Do whatever you want."

"Okay, thanks!" Vala grinned and bounded back out to the patio area where John and Evan were sitting with a few others.

Rodney stormed into the kitchen, pulling a six-pack of beer out of the fridge. After checking to make sure the apartment key was in his pocket, he headed out into the hallway, taking the elevator to the top floor. He found a quiet spot overlooking the city to sit and then popped the top of his first beer.

He didn't know how long he was up there before he noticed someone else sitting next to him. Glancing over, he saw Radek drinking one of his beers.

"You better replace that when you leave."

Radek just waved a hand at him and rolled his eyes.

"I brought six and I intend to drink all of them."

"Six of this swill will not have any difference from five."

Rodney made a face, reaching for his second. "Why are you here stealing my beer?"

"You looked like you could use company. Drinking beer, especially bad beer, is best done with a companion. We need not talk unless you wish it. I am merely here to keep you company."

"I purposely left the apartment alone. What made you think I wanted company?"

"As I said, I did not come out here to pressure you into speaking when you do not wish to. But should you want an ear that is not... trying to have sex with John. I am here."

Rodney snorted. "I didn't think that was actually possible."

"To not wish to have sex with John?"

Rodney nodded, taking a long pull of his beer, the liquid losing its chill, heading toward warm.

"I am not a lover of men." Radek shrugged. "I have no issues with those who are, but I prefer the female form as my bedmate, for myself."

"Lately, I didn't think it would matter."

"That is because you have been all eyes for him, so you notice others who are the same. But it is not all. Merely Evan and Vala, now that Chaya is gone."

"Whatever." He took another sip of his beer.

Radek lapsed into silence, sipping his own beer.

Rodney didn't bother talking, he wasn't in the mood. He just continued through the beer, drinking one after another until only empty cans remained. He wanted more, but that would require a trip downstairs and he wasn't ready to deal with that yet.

Radek had stayed there the whole time, silent unless Rodney spoke first. It was nice, in a way. He didn't demand anything, ask anything, and want anything.

When the beer was gone, they both stared out over the city, lost in their respective thoughts.

Rodney still had so much to do tomorrow in order to get his garment finished. He was grateful the runway show was scheduled for six at night which gave him most of the day, but he wasn't sure it was going to be enough.

Radek finally sighed softly. "I believe I will head inside. You?"

"No," Rodney said quietly, shaking his head. "I'll stay here a bit longer."

Radek nodded as he rose. "Do not stay out too late, or you will regret tomorrow. Good night."

Rodney snorted. "Won't matter in any case."

"You do not want to give up."

"Who said I am?"

Radek shrugged. "I will see you in the morning."

Rodney didn't say anything as Radek walked away, leaving him with the empty beer cans and the New York skyline.

He didn't get much sleep that night, his mind unsettled and restless. The morning sun finally got him moving—albeit stiffly—back down to the apartment to shower and change.

There was a brief moment of awkwardness when John came in as Rodney headed downstairs. He was sweaty, so he had just come in from his run. He glanced at Rodney, and several emotions flitted across his face before it shut down and he went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

It was better this way, Rodney knew, but it hurt nonetheless. He got ready quickly, even making a quick run to the nearby Starbucks for coffee for himself as he waited in the lobby for the SUVs to arrive to take them to Parsons.

Once there, everyone got down to work, the talking at a minimum.

Rodney kept his head down, working steadily. He wanted everything to fit perfectly. Denim was just about the hardest material to work with in the world but he knew he had the skills to pull it off.

Tim came around and talked to everyone, and then it was runway time.

Rodney had managed to finish the last stitches on the garment just before his model had to head downstairs. The garment was perfect, the jeans molded to the model's body like he'd been born in them. The seaming was perfection, the detailing exact. The top—a dark chocolate brown, nearly black—fit perfectly, too.

He couldn't help but look to see what John had done. Instead of denim, he had chosen to use a soft black material for the pants that just flowed over his model's body and highlighted all the right areas. The top was an equally-soft looking off-white trimmed in navy.

Rodney's was better, though, hands down.

He watched the rest of the show, with some stand-out bad stuff, but most of it was, he had to admit, not too bad. Not as good as his, but not too bad.

When they were called up to the runway, he held his head high and tried to calm himself. He did well, he knew he did, but he still worried.

Heidi looked down the line. "If I call your name, step forward. Radek, Elizabeth, Daniel, Laura. If I have called your name, you are safe this week, and you may leave the runway."

Rodney smirked as he watched them go, knowing he was in the top this week.

The models filed out, coming to stand next to them. They went through the routine of going down the line, and it was pretty obvious that he was in the top, along with John and Vala, oddly enough.

Although, Vala loved to look at men—dressed and undressed—so it shouldn't have surprised him that she knew how to dress guys.

When they all went backstage for the deliberations, Jennifer was already starting to cry, convinced she was the one going home. Honestly, hers was a total disaster, with nothing fitting right, and some really horrendous color combinations, so privately Rodney agreed with her.

It was either hers or Sam's that should go home, he thought. They were both train wrecks.

A familiar laugh drew his gaze against his will. John was sitting on a couch, and Evan was next to him, teasing him from the looks of it. John tried smacking him away, but Evan was relentless, keeping it up until he got the soft laugh.

Rodney pointedly turned away, moving toward the table where snacks and drinks were laid out. He had a ripping headache from the beer and lack of sleep, so he just grabbed a bottle of water and an energy bar and snagged a small package of pain killers. The little single-serving packet had certainly come in handy over the course of the day.

The voice, though, and the laugh, followed him.

Tomorrow he'd bring his iPod. At least then, he'd get some peace and quiet.

Finally, the producers called everyone back to the stage.

Rodney took his place at the end of the runway, holding his head high. His design had been flawless. He knew he rightly should win this one.

Heidi gave her spiel, and then she called his name, announcing him the winner.

He smiled proudly. "Thank you."

She smiled back at him. "You may leave the runway."

"Thank you, Heidi," he said with another smile as he headed back inside. He ignored John as he walked past him, holding his head up high.

A few people wandered in after him, John included, until Jennifer came in crying. She was going home. He vaguely felt bad for her—in a that's too bad kind of way—but she didn't deserve to stay because that garment had been a train wreck like most of her other work. She had a group of people hugging her and trying to comfort her as she cried.

"Oh, come on, it's not like you didn't know it was going to happen," Rodney commented under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Sam was standing close enough to hear him, and shot him a glare. "It should have been you last week, so you don't have any room to talk."

"But it wasn't. And come on, if you look back on what she's done and what I've created there's a vast difference—Grand Canyon size difference—between our abilities."

"They base it on week to week. And yours was terrible last week. If you hadn't had immunity, you wouldn't be here."

"Well, I had immunity because my garment was amazing the week before."

"Whatever." Sam shook her head. "You're not God's gift to fashion, so stop pretending like you are."

Rodney snorted. "Of course I am. It just takes everyone more time to catch up to my point of view. You'll get there." He spotted a production assistant hovering at the door. "Oh good. Time to go home."

She snorted. "I hope it's you next."

"It'll probably be you," he said as he moved to the door. "Did you actually see that disaster you put down the runway?"

"My idea was sound, I just ran out of time to produce it."

"Maybe if you actually worked instead of talking you would have had enough time," he said as he stepped out of the green room.

"Maybe if you weren't such a prick, you'd actually have a few friends."

"I have friends at home. I'm here to compete."

"You do? Somehow I doubt that."

Rodney snorted, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Think whatever you want. I know you will."

She waved him off, and made sure to get in a different car.

Rodney climbed into the first car, settling in, his eyes fixed on the cars passing by on the street outside. He didn't need friends here. He needed to compete. He needed to win.

***

They got a day off to just relax and breathe after the male model challenge, so John went jogging, and then found himself back at the apartment without any real idea of what to do with himself. Other than avoid Rodney. He sighed, and walked out onto the balcony, looking out across the city. It still hurt, the way he had been tossed aside. And Rodney had won, so John guessed they all knew now what was more important.

And it wasn’t him.

By the time he walked back into the apartment, Radek was puttering around the kitchen.

"Morning." John gave him a half smile.

"Yes," he said glancing over at John from the fridge. "It is that. You were outside?"

"My morning run. I go every day."

"Well, not every day. Some days there were…other exercise."

John couldn't hide the slight flinch before he turned away, getting coffee to keep busy. "Yeah, well, we know how that ended."

"Yes, we do."

Taking a long sip of his coffee, John shrugged. "So what's on your agenda today?"

Radek shrugged, putting two slices of bread into the toaster. "I was considering walking around city, but I'm not sure. How is weather?"

"Not too bad. It's a little chilly, but it should warm up as the sun comes up."

"Good. Perhaps I will venture out," he said with a nod as the door opened and Rodney walked in, still dressed in yesterday's clothes.

John turned so his face was hidden from both men. He couldn't hide the want, and he hated himself for it. He was such a fucking sucker for men who hurt him.

Rodney didn't stop, just kept walking toward his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Radek cursed quietly under his breath, his attention focused on his toast.

John used the distraction to slip into the bedroom. He grabbed some clothes for a shower. If nothing else, it would kill ten minutes.

"Hey," Evan said, rolling over in his bed. Daniel's bed, John realized, was still made.

"Hey. Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"No problem. I should be up anyway. Why are you up?"

"Went for my jog, and now I'm hopping in the shower. I won't be long."

"Need company? Someone to wash your back maybe?"

John had to laugh softly, despite himself. "Maybe later."

"You know I had to ask."

John smiled. "I just don't want to hurt you again."

"I’m resilient. And honestly, I like sex."

That got another laugh. "Who doesn't?"

Evan shrugged, folding his hands behind his head. "Some people have hang-ups about it. It doesn't have to mean anything."

John looked at him, and then thought, screw it. "You know, maybe I do need someone to wash my back for me."

Evan's smile was wide as he shoved the covers to the side, striding over to John in his boxers. "I think you have the right idea."

"Mmm." John looked him up and down, remembering how attracted he had been when they first met. Yeah.

"Let's get you all cleaned up," Evan said with a smile, easily holding John's eyes. John could tell that Evan liked being looked at as he shifted confidently on his feet.

Admiring, when Evan got closer, John didn't protest when the other man invaded his space. "Mmmm. Very nice."

"I certainly think so. Come on, let's take this inside."

John let himself be led into the bathroom, and since Evan seemed to want to be in charge, John let him.

"You're overdressed," he said, the corner of his mouth rising in a smile. "You should really take care of that."

"Why don't you give me a hand?"

This time Evan smirked. "Oh, I can do that," he said, stepping right into John's personal space. John had to gasp as strong, sure hands skimmed his body.

"This what you had in mind?" Evan asked, his lips fractions of an inch from John's. "If not, you better say something now."

"Please..."

"Are you sure? Once we do this we can't un-do it."

John nodded. "I'm tired of feeling like no one wants me. Make me forget."

"Everyone wants you," Evan breathed into his mouth, "but you only had eyes for one."

John swallowed hard. "Show me."

Evan didn't hesitate, pressing against him, kissing him savagely. One of his hands slid up to hold the back of John's head, the other skimmed his ass, cupping a cheek and tugging him closer.

John moaned, pressing closer. Contact. He wanted someone to just make him feel good. Evan didn't let up until they were finally breathless, panting into open mouths, hands holding them tightly together.

John pressed his body closer to Evan's making sure the other man could feel how turned on he was.

"Oh yeah," Evan said, shifting them, moving them back into the bedroom.

John went willingly, ignoring the little voice in his head that was trying to think of Rodney. McKay didn't want him, he had made that quite clear. But Evan did, and John needed the reassurance that he wasn't a complete pariah. So he went, and reached out, exploring Evan's body.

They ended up on the closest bed—Daniel's—Evan's hands making fast work of removing John's sweaty running clothes. It was ten times better without them in the way.

"Oh, god, yes..." John arched up, trying for more.

Evan managed to get himself out of his boxers at some point and then the friction and the touching and the contact was even better. He plundered John's mouth, refusing to let up.

John shifted his hip so their cocks were lined up, and then it was perfect. They rocked together, the pleasure sparking with each and every movement.

John managed to gasp, "Close," before Evan was taking everything again. It was rough and dirty, but oh god, did it feel good.

John came, getting them both sticky, smiling when Evan followed him a few beats later.

"Oh, yeah…god…yeah…" Evan said—kinda loudly—slumping to the side moments later, panting hard.

John sighed, letting the glow of release rush through him. "Good."

"Very. Good." Evan nodded.

"It was good for me, too," Vala said, making both of them jump.

"What the hell?" John looked wildly around the room.

Vala smiled wickedly from her perch on the next bed. "You did leave the door open."

Glaring, John tried to find something to cover them both up. "This isn't a peep show."

"No, you're right," she said. "It's a full-on porno. I might have to find Daniel again and do it all over with him a fourth time. Or is it fifth?"

John fell back against the bed and groaned.

"You had an audience for a while, but I kicked everyone else out," she said, smirking. "I thought it was for the best."

John groaned again. "Who else?"

She started ticking people off on her fingers. "Well, Radek and me and Daniel, of course. Laura was here, too. Oh and Sam…" She thought for a moment. "Oh. And Elizabeth…and…I think that might have been it."

John looked over at Evan. "Did you notice they were here? Or am I the only one who was completely oblivious?"

"I was a little preoccupied, honestly," Evan said with a shrug.

"Yeah." John sighed. "Well, I guess I'll go get that shower now."

"Yeah, me, too," he said, shifting to move off the bed, but pausing when he saw John's look. "What?"

"You're coming in with me?"

"Well, I thought that was still an option. Is it or isn't it?"

John blinked. Honestly, he was incredibly embarrassed about the whole being watched thing, but he wasn't going to diss Evan with Vala standing there hanging on every word. "Of course. I was surprised you still wanted to, after..."

"Doesn't bother me. Like I said, sex is sex. It's up to you."

John shrugged. "Let's go get cleaned up."

Evan smiled at him and rose easily, not even bothering to hide his nakedness or his come-stained chest. He tossed a grin over his shoulder to Vala. "Be back in a few."

John felt the blush riding his body as he tried to get into the bathroom without flashing her, and without looking like he was trying to avoid flashing her.

"It's not anything she hasn't seen," Evan said as they stepped inside the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "And you have nothing to worry about, you're above average in terms of size."

John felt himself flush even brighter. "I'm just not used to an audience. I've never had anyone except my lovers see me naked."

Evan shrugged, turning the shower water on and checking the temperature. "Like I said, sex is sex. Just something everyone does."

John shrugged. "I've never slept with anyone I wasn't dating. You're my first fling."

Evan hummed. "I won't even try to guess my numbers."

John decided not to say anything. That was probably the safest route. He used getting in the shower and ducking under the hot water as his excuse.

Evan moved in behind him a few moments later, pulling the shower door closed. He stepped up behind John, wrapping his hands around his waist.

John tried to relax back into the embrace. The problem was, he really had no idea what to do. He'd never done something like this before.

"Relax. We just had really good sex."

"I'm trying, really." John shot him a shy grin. "I'm just not sure how to act when having a fling."

"Just enjoy it."

"I did. I am."

"Good," Evan said, his hands starting to move, stroking and caressing his stomach.

John closed his eyes and leaned back into it. He wished it was Rodney. And he hated himself for it, just a little bit.

Evan's mouth teased at the back of his neck along his hairline as his hands rubbed up and down, lingering more and more on the down stroke, fingertips grazing his dick.

John closed his eyes, letting himself just enjoy. Giving himself permission to enjoy. "Feels good."

"It should. That's the whole point," he said softly, teeth lightly gripping his ear lobe.

"You're good at this."

"I certainly hope so. I've practiced enough."

"Mmmm." John didn't want to talk anymore. He just wanted to not think.

Evan sucked on his ear and then started on the sensitive skin behind it as his hand started stroking John's cock. "Just want to make you feel good, John, so good."

"Yes, please..." John pressed his ass back against the hardness he could feel poking against him.

"I don't have anything with me for that, but I'm sure we can go out and get something later if you're interested."

Licking his lips, John shifted in Evan's arms and laid his cheek against Evan's chest. It was probably more intimate than he should be doing, but he didn't care. "Maybe later. This just feels good right now."

Evan turned them so they were pressed chest to chest once again, his lips just as insistent as his hands. John opened up, once more letting Evan take the lead. He seemed more versed in how to have good sex flings.

Or maybe it was because he seemed to have lots and lots of sex. Evan, while persistent, was gentle this time, pressing him against the shower wall, hands braced on either side of John's head.

John arched into each touch, each kiss. He gave as good as he got, wanting to make it just as good for the other man. Even though he wasn't usually into flings, he wanted to be one of the ones Evan remembered.

They fooled around until the water got cold.

When they wandered back out into the living room, John tried hard to look nonchalant and ignored the fact that he was blushing.

Vala was still there—mostly sitting in Daniel's lap. Radek was dressed and puttering around the kitchen again—or still. John wasn't quite sure. "So…I am headed to Fifth Avenue to window shop," he said, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge.

John smiled at him. "Good. Everyone should do that at least once."

"Did you wish to go or did you have…other plans?"

John blinked. "I don't have any plans. I'll go. I didn't know if you wanted company."

"I always prefer company to none," Radek said, his eyes sliding behind John. "I did not know if you had other plans, though."

John had a feeling Evan didn't care one way or another, and he needed some space to think about what he wanted. "Nope, no plans. Lemme put my shoes back on, and I'll be ready."

"I will grab you water bottle," Radek said as John headed back into the bedroom.

"Perfect. Thanks!"

Evan was still pulling on his clothes and straightening up when John walked in. "Hey, there. Come back for some more?" he asked with a smile.

John smiled, but shook his head, grabbing his shoes. "Radek asked if I'd go window shopping with him on Fifth Avenue. I told him sure."

"Oh, okay," Evan said without missing a beat. "I think Laura is at odds today. I'll catch up with her."

John paused. "I didn't think you'd mind. You don't, do you? I'm new to the fling thing, so I don't know what the protocol is."

"It's fine. You know where to find me if you want to do more or if you don't, that's cool, too."

John nodded. It would take some getting used to, this fling mentality. Evan had been all over him, but now that he gotten sex, it was apparently all good.

Evan gave him a dirty smile and headed out. John heard him talking for a few moments and then the front door opened and closed.

Trying for just as casual, John headed back out, smiling at Radek. "I'm ready when you are."

"Good, good," he said, waving a small map. "I have planned subway trip to Fifth Avenue."

"I'm following you." John looked around. "Just us, or is anyone else jumping in too?"

"Just us. Elizabeth and Sam had plans to visit spa. Evan was going to hook up with Laura, I believe."

"Cool." He wanted to ask about Rodney, but he would not be that pathetic. He wouldn't.

They stepped out of the apartment, closing the door behind them. "I do not know where Rodney went. He simply was no longer in apartment when I went to ask him before," Radek said with a shrug. "No matter."

John tried for a casual shrug, pretending he didn't care.

"So is there anything you wish to see?"

"Nothing in particular. It's all new to me, too."

"Oh, there must be something you wish to see."

"High fashion. I want to see who's selling what, and what's in this season."

"Okay. We shall see high fashion," he said with a smile, leading them out of the building and to the nearest subway stop—the same one he'd used with Rodney weeks ago.

John fought back a sigh, and forced a smile on his face. He wasn't going to be a drag. He was going to have fun, and not think about the man who didn't want him.

They ended up wandering through what seemed like every store on Fifth Avenue. It was amazing and fascinating all at the same time. The grabbed dinner at a sushi place up on 57th street before heading back to their apartment—and managed to get there all in one piece and without getting lost.

John had discovered he really liked Radek. Not as a potential bed partner, but as a friend. He was a good guy, and John had actually had a really good time, forgetting about his heartache.

Vala and Daniel were on the couch when they got back—in different clothes and wet hair—while Evan mixed drinks in the kitchen.

"Hey guys." John smiled, and now it didn't feel so forced. Rodney didn't want him, fine. Evan found him desirable, and Radek had reminded him that there was more to life than just sex.

"Hey, want a drink?" Evan asked, flashing them as a smile as they walked in.

"Sure, whatcha making?" John and Radek slid into chairs at the bar.

"Whatever you want," he said. "I have a margarita headed for Vala and something vaguely scotch-like for Daniel."

"Hmm, surprise me. Something sweet, but not too sweet."

"A girly drink then, I can do that. What do you want, Radek?"

"Vodka. What else?"

Evan offers an easy laugh. "Yeah, I should have known." They end up drinking and talking for the next few hours, relaxing easily just the five of them.

When it got late enough for bed to be a real necessity if they were all going to be able to compete the following day, John went to bed relaxed, and feeling actually happy for the first time since Rodney dumped him.

The next morning they were down at the cars right on time and John was vaguely surprised to see Rodney already in the first car, watching the traffic through the window.

He made a point of getting in the second car, and not letting himself think about the other man. He needed to win this one to stay in the competition.

But he couldn't help but notice that Rodney was missing. It wasn't that he wasn't there physically, but he seemed to be…different. Even after meeting with Julia Roberts for the red carpet challenge, sketching back at the workroom, and then shopping at Mood, it was almost like Rodney was a ghost—there but not there.

He sighed to himself as he started working on his red carpet look. He wasn't going to care. It was Rodney's decision to dump him, and the other man had made it very clear that John wasn't important enough to him to try.

They worked through the day and into the night, designing the high fashion red carpet looks that would be—hopefully—in everyone's best dressed file.

John was really happy with his look. Rather than go with a traditional fabric, he had decided to go with a gorgeous pink metallic he had found at Mood, trimmed with silver. It was a long sheath-type dress with a train that spilled out. But instead of strapless or tank-style, he had elected to go with sweeping sleeves that draped about halfway to the floor. It was a dramatic, and to him a beautiful, look.

He accidentally ended up in the same car as Rodney on the way back to the apartment, too tired to pay attention as they piled into the cars. Rodney didn't even flinch when John slid in, his eyes fixed on the scenery outside. Ear buds nestled in his ears and attached to what looked like an iPod explained the lack of reaction.

John did his best to ignore him as well as Rodney seemed to be ignoring John. It was hard, and he hated that it meant the other man really didn't care anything about him.

Rodney jumped out as soon as they were back at the apartment, bee lining for the elevator and, moments later, his room. What surprised John more was that he only stopped long enough to grab a six-pack of beer before he was headed back out of the apartment again, ignoring everyone.

It had been a long day, so none of them really lingered very long. They stayed and chatted a bit about the challenge and what they were all doing for it, the problems they were having or had overcome, but then they were back to bed, trying to get a few hours of sleep before they'd be back in the workroom.

When John got up for his run in the morning, the apartment was silent and still. He loved this time in the morning. It felt like he could really breathe. But when he spotted Rodney in yesterday's clothes stepping out of the stairwell as John walked into the elevator to take him downstairs, he wasn't sure what to make of it.

He couldn't help himself. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

Rodney stopped, whipping around, his eyes wide. "What?"

John shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "We'll be heading back to the studio in another two hours and you don't look like you've slept much. You okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, turning away, muttering something under his breath.

John shrugged. He had tried, at least. "All right, see you later then."

Rodney just shook his head, heading a little unsteadily to the apartment.

As he ran, John wondered why Rodney was getting hammered in the middle of the competition. That didn't seem like a really smart thing to do. In fact, it was a pretty quick way to get sent home, because your stuff wouldn't be up to standards.

He thought about it the whole run, trying to figure out the other man.

He was no closer to an answer when he got back to the apartment and slipped into the shower. Evan was still sleeping, otherwise John had a feeling he'd have a partner again. He liked Evan, but John had to admit, he just didn't do the whole fling very well. Sex was nice, but he wanted the intimacy, too.

After he was ready, the apartment still quiet, he couldn't help himself and he headed down to the other bedroom, glancing inside. The room—and attached bathroom—were dark and silent, no sign of Rodney.

Shrugging, he tried to make himself not care. Rodney didn't want him to care.

It was a little weird, though, nearly an hour later when they got the call upstairs that the cars were there, that he spotted Rodney in the first vehicle again, staring out of the window, headphones in place. He was in different clothes, but otherwise everything was the same.

John shrugged, and got into the second car. He didn't want to be trapped next to Rodney again.

Radek, he noticed, climbed in the first car with Rodney, sitting next to him. He did something and then John could see Rodney turned his head, pulling the headphones from his ears.

John shook himself a little. He didn't care. If he just told himself that enough times, he'd even start to believe it.

But yeah, it wasn't working.

With a sigh, when they got back to the workroom, he fell on his dress. Last-minute fittings were still needed to make sure it was perfect. He wanted to impress Julia Roberts. I mean, come on. It was The Julia Roberts.

She'd been on hundreds of red carpets. He needed something to really stand out.

He fussed with his model, trying a few different sets of accessories, and driving hair and makeup crazy with his micro-managing for this one.

And then it was time. The runway show. This was it.

And honestly, he had to say that most of the garments this week were pretty amazing.

He was nervous. As he watched everyone's stuff go down the runway, he could honestly say no one had really fucked up this week. Everyone, even Rodney and his drinking, really stood out as amazing. It was going to be a tough call.

"Designers, I have to say that you made our decisions very difficult this week," Heidi said with a smile, checking her note cards. "Would John, Elizabeth, Sam, Daniel, Vala, and Rodney step forward please?"

John took a step forward. His palms were damp with nerves.

"If I did not call your name, you are safe this week. Congratulations. You can leave the runway."

John watched as Evan headed off, giving him a silent "good luck" before he disappeared around the other side of the stage. Licking his lips, John fought the urge to fidget as their models came out.

"You represent the best and worst this week," Heidi said with a smile. "We'll go down the line and talk about each of your designs."

John just happened to be the first in line this week. He tried not to fidget as the eyes of not only the judges, but Julia Roberts came to focus on him. "Hi."

"Tell us about your design."

"Well," he swallowed, and found his voice, "I wanted to create something that was wearable, but also would stand out from the crowd. Fashion is such an important part of that experience, that I wanted to do something that was both a little daring, but also very figure-flattering."

"I could see myself in this," Julia said offering a smile. "The shape is fantastic. The only thing that I would worry about is the color. Pink is not good with everyone's skin tone."

John nodded. Wow, Julia Roberts liked his design. "I knew I was taking a risk with the color, but to me, that's part of what the red carpet is about, being willing to go a little out there, to walk the line between fashionable and just bad taste."

She nodded and then Heidi moved down the line.

He took a deep breath, sharing a hopeful look with his model. He wanted this one.

By the time they made it all the way down the line, John just wanted them to make a decision, but he knew they'd have to stew for a while longer. They all trooped into the green room, the rest of the contestants immediately wanting to know what happened.

Everyone except Rodney took turns telling them about the feedback, and how close it was. For once, they hadn't really given any indication of who was on top and who was on bottom.

"Your garment was the best by far," Vala said, sliding up next to him.

He shrugged. "I thought everyone's this week was great. It's going to be hard for them to send someone home."

They ended up cooling their heels for nearly two hours before they were finally called back inside.

Lining up again, John took a deep breath. They'd either like it or they wouldn't, and he couldn't do anything about it now. He had done his best—that was all he could do.

"Designers, you certainly gave us a challenge this week," Heidi said once everyone was in place. "Daniel, you're safe. You can leave the runway."

John saw the mix of disappointment and relief on Daniel's face that he knew well as the other man walked off the stage. You always wanted to win, but not being in the bottom was something to celebrate, too.

"John and Rodney, you represent the best of our designs this week. Elizabeth and Sam, you were the worst."

Holy shit. John swallowed hard and glanced over at Rodney before he could stop himself. Then he put his attention back on the judges. God, he really wanted to win this one. He loved his design, and he wanted to see a version of it for sale.

"John," Heidi said, pausing dramatically. "You are our winner this week. Congratulations."

"Oh my god." John looked around in shock. "Really?"

"Yes, congratulations," Heidi said with a smile. "Rodney, that means you're safe this week. You may both leave the runway."

"Wow, thank you so much..." John couldn't stop grinning, even as he walked off the stage.

Rodney walked back next to him, muttering under his breath. One line, John caught. "Seems like copious amounts of sex works for some people."

John stopped short, forcing Rodney to stop or run into him. In a low hiss, some of the anger came out. "You dumped me. I begged, and you threw me out. So you have no right to judge what I do anymore."

"I'm not judging anything, just stating a fact."

"Stop playing the martyr, drinking and acting like you're the injured party here. Everyone fucking knows you tossed me out on my ass. You don't want me, I'm not good enough for you, you can go on without looking back while I'm fucking hurting, fine. I don't give a damn. But stop pretending like you're the one who got hurt here. I'm getting sick and fucking tired of it." Without waiting for an answer, John whirled around and stalked into the green room, the glow of his win now tarnished.

But Rodney wasn't finished. He stormed after him. "How dare you! I told you why I had to do what I did, but that wasn't a good enough reason for you, was it? Well, I hate to tell you, but some people think sex is something private and intimate and not something to be shared with ten strangers! Are you proud of yourself now that you're just another notch on Lorne's well-used penis?"

John turned around, shaking his head. "He gave me comfort when I needed it, and reminded me that I'm not some fucking pariah. I've had too many men dump me for all seemingly reasonable reasons to not take it personally anymore. But he reminded me that not everyone thinks I'm useless, and I'm not going to feel guilty about that."

"Oh, is that what you call it? Comfort?" Rodney chuckled humorlessly, harshly. "I told you at the beginning I needed to wait, that I couldn't do both, but you refused to take no for an answer. And guess what? I knew exactly what I could and could not do, but now I'm the fucking pariah because I stood my ground. And just because I don't want to hear you and Evan fucking like bunnies at night and in the shower and in the morning I spend my free time up on the roof."

John rolled his eyes. "It was your choice. If you remember, I said we could find some middle ground, but you didn't want that. You didn't want me. Fine. Whatever. You're not a pariah--you're the one distancing yourself from everyone else. No one has sent you away."

"Yes, because all I get is grief from everyone about it. I don't want to hear it anymore. And I can't do middle ground. I never could. It's an all or nothing thing with me, but you refused to wait."

"Whatever." John shook his head. "I'm not going to apologize to you about what I've done or will do. I didn't refuse to wait—if you'll recall, it was you who came to bed naked. I was willing to wait, but I'm also too human to turn down an invitation like that."

"Whatever," Rodney said, brushing him off as he stepped past him. "Hope you enjoy Evan while it lasts but I'd make sure I got tested if I were you. You know…just in case."

John didn't bother to reply, he just turned and walked the other way.

"And for your information," Rodney called after him, not letting it go. "That naked thing was part of the whole 'all or nothing', thing. But I guess that's not something you understand."

John refused to be baited any more, or to air his private hurts for group consumption. He knew the people facing him could see what he couldn't hide, but at least Rodney couldn't. He headed for the men's room, hoping to get a few minutes to collect himself.

It was Vala who finally chased him out of the men's room nearly an hour later, telling him all about Sam's departure and dragging him to the waiting cars. He let himself be pushed into a car, not paying attention to much else except the hurt.

"Why does it matter so much?"

John looked up. "What?"

"The whole thing with McKay. Why does it matter so much?"

John shrugged. "I wish I knew. It would be easier if it didn't."

"Both of you are acting like idiots about it."

Sighing, John looked down. "I'll try not to let it get out of hand again."

"Just…as much as I think you and Evan are hot, Rodney was right. He's not in it for a relationship and getting yourself checked is not a bad idea. Not that I think he has anything, but given the fact that he's slept with a few of the contestants already…"

John made a face. "I know he's just in it for the sex. I just... I guess I wanted to feel wanted. Bad reason for having sex, I know."

"That's not a bad reason—if that's what you want, too, but I don't think it is."

"No, it's not." John looked up at Vala. "I want a relationship, and everything that goes with it. Sex isn't as good without all that other stuff."

"So why are you here?"

"Here as in the competition? I need this to prove I can design and make a living at it."

"Then you might want to think about what you've been doing up until now." She patted his arm a few times. "And that's all I'm going to say on the matter."

He sighed. "I know. Time to get my head back in the game, and stop letting everything else derail me."

"But I do have to thank you for putting on a great show yesterday. It was…yummy."

That got a small smile. "Glad to be of service."

She smiled and squeezed his hand, leaning into him. It was…nice in a way. By the time they got to the apartment he was exhausted and dragged himself inside only to discover Radek emptying his clothes from the dresser. From the looks of it, half of Radek's clothes were already gone.

"Hey, what's going on?" John sat down on his bed.

"I am moving to other bedroom."

"Oh?"

"I have decided to keep Rodney company."

John was too tired, physically and emotionally, to do more than give the other man a small smile. "Good. He shouldn't be in there by himself."

"I agree and perhaps he will stop sleeping on bench on roof."

"Yeah. He can win this thing if he can get focused."

"He is living on beer and coffee with PowerBars as sustenance. It is not enough. I do not wish to beat him because he is too stupid to take care of himself." Radek piled the rest of his clothes on his bed.

"Yeah," John sighed. "If he'll let you, take care of him."

"He is not given choice. I sent him to shower as soon as we walked in."

Nodding, John fell back on the bed. "Good."

"Let me go before he runs to roof. Sleep well, tomorrow is yet another challenge."

"Yeah, you too. Night." John gave him another weak smile. Once Radek was gone, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him almost immediately. How had things gone so bad so fast?

***


	2. Chapter 2

Rodney couldn't shake the damn Czech. Everywhere he turned, the crazy-haired man was there, glaring at him, refusing to budge and ignoring everything that Rodney said.

Right now, Radek had shoved a bowl of cereal in his hands even before he was fully awake.

"You will eat."

"I'm not hungry and I'm not awake yet either," he said, trying to shove away the bowl, but Radek didn't let him.

"You will eat, or I will not leave you alone."

"You haven't left me alone since last night!"

"And I will not be leaving you alone in foreseeable future. I will not win because you are too stupid to take care of yourself. I wish to win because I am better."

"You're not better," he said shoving himself upright and taking the bowl.

"Then prove it by taking care of yourself and stop this foolish moping."

"I'm not moping!"

"Yes, you are. You are sleeping on roof and living on bad beer and PowerBars while you feel sorry for yourself. You must decide what is more important—winning competition or moping."

"I'm concentrating on the competition! I can't deal with all the distractions in the apartment and the last thing I need is to hear the sex from the other bedroom!"

Radek rolled his eyes. "Is only a distraction because you still have interest in John. However, you have made it clear that is not what you wish to focus on, so you will stop this sulking and get back to work."

"Of course I still have an interest in him! You have eyes. You can see how hot he is. Just because I can't concentrate on the competition and hot sex with him should not get me shunned by everyone!"

"You are not being shunned. You are the one who is setting yourself apart. No one else cares who or what you sleep with. With exception of John, but that is not for this conversation."

"Whatever," Rodney said rolling his eyes and taking a bite of the now-soggy cereal. He made a face. "Oh this is—"

"You will eat it. Stop arguing and eat, and it will not get to that consistency."

"This is not fair," he grumbled, eating and glaring at the Czech.

"I am not trying for fair. I am trying to force you to start thinking and stop moping."

"I'm not moping!"

"Yes, you are." Radek glared at him.

"Am not!"

"And now you try to defend yourself with childish phrases. Eat."

Evan appeared at the bedroom door a beat later. "Would you two knock it off! Some of us didn't need to get up this early."

Radek rolled his eyes. "You keep rest of us up half the night, you cannot complain now."

"I wasn't acting like a two-year-old," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just eat your damn breakfast and shut up, McKay."

"No! No, I won't shut up just because you want me to."

Radek sliced his hand through the air. "Evan, you will go back to bed, or take shower and jerk off, or whatever you wish. Rodney, you will eat. There is no more talking."

"I don't take orders from you," Rodney said, glaring at Radek.

"For right now, yes, you do. Eat."

Evan opened his mouth to protest, but Radek cut him off. "No. You will go back to bed and stop antagonizing."

Evan glared at Radek for a long moment before turning and stomping off down the hall.

With a hmph, Radek turned back to glare at Rodney. "You are not eating."

"You are a menace, did you know that?" Rodney said, taking another bite of his soggy cereal.

"Yes, and I am not caring. You will eat and sleep and you will make beautiful clothes and stop hiding away."

Rodney ate all of his breakfast and got dressed—all with the Czech dictator watching his every move. He wasn't allowed to have coffee until he was up and ready and it was only by the time they were leaving, Rodney realized his iPod was missing.

He headed back to the bedroom just as they were all filing out to go down to the cars.

Radek intercepted him, took his arm and steered him back toward the cars. "If you are looking for music ignoring device, I have taken it."

"What! You have no right to steal my property."

"Stealing would mean I intend to keep. I will give back when you are no longer using as way to shut out world."

"This isn't fair," Rodney muttered as Radek shoved him into a car—right next to John. "Oh, come on!"

Radek got in behind him and shut the door. John looked startled and tried to scoot over.

"Now you will talk like humans," Radek said from behind.

"Ahh." John looked over, and Rodney noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "Morning?"

"It is that, yes. Very perceptive of you," Rodney snipped, only to get a smack to the back of his head. "Hey!"

"You will be civil and not pick fights."

"Fine," he hissed, grinding his teeth. "Morning."

John sighed. "Radek, you don't have to do this. It's fine."

John got his own smack to the back of his head. "You are both being idiots. You will talk."

John made a face, but sighed. "I wonder what today's challenge will be."

"Something off the wall, I imagine," Rodney said after a few beats as the car pulled into traffic. "The last one was normal."

"Yeah." John looked away, out the window.

A few seconds passed and then Radek thumped John again.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"It was your turn to continue conversation and you did not."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Continue conversation," Radek said as Rodney turned his head, smirking. He was glad Radek had turned his attention to John.

John sighed. "So... nice design last challenge. I liked it."

"Thanks," Rodney said. "I still can't believe they picked that pink thing you made."

John gave him a small smile. "I really wanted it yesterday."

"But pink?"

"It was risky, but I wanted to give it a more feminine touch."

"If you call it that."

John shrugged and looked away again. "I liked it."

"And apparently, so did the judges."

"I hadn't won one in a while."

"I still think my design was better."

"We all think our designs are the best."

"I know mine are. That's the difference."

"If that was true, you would have won."

"I think Julia thought you were hot."

John rolled his eyes. "I didn't win because Julia Roberts thinks I'm hot. For one, she's Julia Roberts. She sees hot men all the time, and I don't hold a candle to them."

"Oh, I think you do."

John shook his head. "Not really. I'm just an average guy."

"Not an average guy by any stretch of the imagination."

John looked away again. "Maybe less than average."

"Way more than average." Rodney licked his lips and looked the other way. "Way more."

"I can't even seem to keep a guy for more than a few days. There's something wrong with me, if no one really wants me."

Rodney was silent for a long moment, but Radek didn't smack him—thank god. "I want you, I just can't have you now," Rodney said quietly, grimacing at how it sounded.

John looked over. "You've said that. In my experience, it means, 'you're a nice guy but not for me.'"

"Well, I'm not a…typical guy."

"Yeah, that's why I'm attracted to you."

"I just…I can't do anything halfway—which is one of my biggest faults. When I do something, I really do something—to the exclusion of everything else, really." Rodney squinted out the window as they passed two Starbucks in rapid succession.

"So... maybe we could just be friends for now, and after the show, we'll see?"

Rodney nodded. "I'd like that, but only if you want to."

"I do."

"It's all your fault, you know."

"My fault?"

"You're so damn sexy." He watched the red creep down John's neck and under his collar. "If you weren't so hot, this wouldn't be a problem. So…your fault."

"No. You're the one who's hot."

"I am an attractive man, I know that, but not in the same way you are."

"I'm not all that."

"Oh, yes, you are. Trust me."

John was still blushing. "I don't think so."

This time Radek smacked both of them in the head. "Stop arguing."

"Ow!" They both said it in stereo, and then gave each other shy smiles.

"Better. I will not ask you to kiss and make up, but remember I will be watching you and will act if you continue to behave like idiots."

John made a face. "Yes, Dad."

Radek cuffed him in the back of the head. "And none of that lip."

That got a laugh from both of them.

"Maybe I should ask for you to kiss and make up. Would serve you both right."

"One step at a time, Radek." John smiled at Rodney.

"I could probably do a small one," Rodney said with a shrug, glancing away.

"I'm not going to mess this up a second time."

"Well, technically it's your turn to screw up. I did it the first time."

"And see, I don't want to screw it up."

"Good, good. You both do not wish to screw it up," Radek said as they pulled up to Parsons. "Now behave during day."

"Yes, Dad." John hopped out of the car before Radek could hit him again.

Rodney followed slowly, not quite sure what to make of the car ride and Radek's behavior.

Radek fell into step beside him. "Now, do you not feel better?"

"How did you get nominated as mother hen?"

"Someone had to do it, since you could not do it yourselves."

"So everyone nominated you to play peacemaker?"

"I nominated myself."

Rodney just shook his head as they headed to the runway, settling in as they waited for Heidi to join them. A few minutes later she was striding out dressed in leather pants and a jaw-dropping leather corset. Holy crap.

"Good morning, designers." Heidi smiled at them. "This week, we have a challenge for you that will tie up your creativity."

Yeah, he'd had been right. It was going to be a doozy of a design challenge.

"You'll be going on a field trip to meet Tim, and hear about your next challenge."

Rodney dragged himself from his chair as they headed out once again. He slid into the closest car, not paying much attention—and having a hard time getting the sight of Heidi in leather out of his mind.

The cars took them to a leather shop, where Tim was waiting inside along with men in very tight pants. Very tight leather pants.

One woman, dressed in red leather, stood next to Tim, smiling at them as they took in everything in the shop. "Good morning, designers, and welcome to The Underground. I want to introduce Sue to you, one of the hottest leather designers in the country."

Sue smiled. "As you can see, The Underground is the premier source for leatherwork in the city, and across the county. We can make anything and everything out of leather."

Everything was the key word in her statement. The shop had leather garments and accessories in every shape and size—from the tame leather pencil skirt to the full bondage gear you'd find in really bad pornos.

"Your challenge today is to create an edgy garment that can be worn to a party," Sue said. "Your primary material has to be leather."

They all looked at each other. Tim smiled at them. "Behind me, you'll see a selection of different colors and grades of leather. In a few moments, you'll have five minutes to grab what you can, and this will be the only material you can use to create your masterpieces."

"Be creative. Be edgy. But remember, this garment has to be something that can be worn in public," said Sue.

They all looked around at one another, and then Tim stepped aside. "Designers, your five minutes starts... now!"

Total chaos began seconds later as everyone started running to the leather fabric, grabbing as much as they could get their hands on. Rodney managed to grab black and red leather.

It was a total madhouse, and when Tim called time, everyone was looking around wildly.

Rodney wasn't sure he had enough to work with, but it was all he could grab.

"Okay designers, you have ten minutes now to walk around to see some of Sue's work here before he head back to Parsons. Use your time wisely," Tim said, clapping his hands.

They were all given bags to fold their fabrics into, so they could more easily cart them around as they toured the studio. It was amazing—talk about a serious leather fetish.

And Rodney had to admit, he'd never thought about designing with leather, but now that he had the chance to get a closer look at the garments—and how both Sue and Heidi had looked in it—he was intrigued.

The challenge was going to make it look classy, and not completely vulgar. But Sue and The Underground had really taken leather to an art form—sure, there were a few things that made him blush, but for the most part, it was really good design, just using leather as the material instead of some other fabric.

He heard Evan, Vala, and Laura in one of the more risqué areas with all of the sex toys and whatnot. No surprise there. He rolled his eyes and looked at some of the architecture in the corset he had in his hands.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye John, who was looking closely at an outfit that looked like a cat suit in terms of construction, but it was the classiest version Rodney had ever seen.

Rodney couldn't help but think that John would look amazing in something like that. He blushed, turning back to the corset. They had two minutes left—according to Tim—and he wanted to make sure he knew what he wanted to do.

When they were all gathered up again, Tim smiled. "Designers, we're heading back to Parsons now. You'll have the rest of the day today, and tomorrow morning to finish your designs."

One day. God. That wasn't enough time.

"Oh, and designers, there's no immunity even if you win this challenge."

There was a collective gasp. Tim just chuckled. "Going forward, there will be no more immunity."

They headed back to the cars which whisked them to Parsons and their workroom where they all got to work. Rodney was still in the back next to Radek, but thankfully the Czech hadn't kicked him back to his old spot. He didn't have the time to move his crap.

There was a sort of frenzied energy in the workroom today. Knowing there was no more immunity, everyone was determined to come out on top.

Radek forced food and drink on him throughout the day, still acting like a mother hen. He dragged himself into the apartment sometime after midnight along with everyone else.

They all fell into bed without much talk, and the next morning, the producers were rousing them at a god-awful time of the morning.

But god, there was so much work yet to be done.

The models had come in for fittings earlier the previous day, and they were there almost as soon as the designers arrived. Leather was a tricky thing to fit right, so at least they were giving them access to the bodies they needed to sculpt to. That was something, at least.

Not much, but something.

The corset on his dress was beautiful. He was able to work both the red and black together into an intricate pattern. They had been given access to various notions in the workroom—from boning to grommets—so that had been a great help.

He was glad he had used some of the colored leather, since it seemed he was in the minority. John and Radek had both worked color into their designs, but everyone else was a solid black, with various metallic trims.

Some of the garments Rodney wouldn't wear in a dark room with no windows or lights. Really, really bad taste.

Tim had come around and had actually had some good things to say about Rodney's design, so he was feeling confident when it came time to send the girls to the runway.

Rodney watched the models strut their stuff, critiquing each design in his head. His model worked it. You could tell that she absolutely loved her garment and it fit her to a T.

When it came time to have everyone line up on the runway, he was feeling confident and had a few ideas about who should be going home.

Heidi glanced up from her notes as soon as all the designers were on the runway. "If I call your name, please step forward. Radek and Laura." She paused and then smiled. "Congratulations, you are safe. You may leave the runway."

A ripple of relief went through the people whose names she had called as they shuffled offstage.

Heidi looked at them for a long moment. "The four of you represent the best and the worst this week. Let's bring out your models."

Rodney smiled as his girl strutted out. She looked seriously hot. Of the others, only, surprisingly, Vala had any chance of coming close to him this week. But then, he shouldn't have been surprised. Vala wore something leather everyday.

He looked the other way, at Elizabeth and Daniel. They were both... horrendous. They looked like someone had taken a bad porno flick and tried to make it Victorian era or something. At least his and Vala's were classy—if very sensual.

The judges started with Daniel. He had apparently been trying for something like an evening gown made of leather, but it just hadn't worked. They tore him apart. Rodney knew he should feel sorry for him, but he just didn't have it in him.

Next was Vala. And she got just the opposite reaction. Her outfit was very sci-fi in some ways, like the lead in some space flick could easily be running around saving the day while looking hot at the same time. It was strong and feminine at the same time, which was making Heidi drool.

Next came Elizabeth. And if they had been harsh on Daniel, well, she was being torn to shreds. She had tried for a big puffy dress too, but where Daniel's was just not done very well, hers was a walking disaster. There was even a gap in the back where she hadn't gotten it to lay right and the model's ass was peeking through.

John's and Evan's designs were…boring. There was no way to be nice about it. They weren't anything special. At least John's had some color in it, but not much.

Rodney was ready for them when they finally turned their attention to him and his model. He shifted on his feet, his chin up.

Heidi smiled. "Why don't you tell us a little bit about your inspiration?"

"Well," he said, glancing at his model. "We all know that leather is sexy, so I wanted to make a garment that was sensual without being vulgar."

Michael Kors nodded. "You've done a great job of straddling that line. Can we see the back again?" After his model turned around, Michael nodded again. "The construction on this is superb. You've done a great job with making the stitching a subtle part of the whole package."

"I wanted to bring in the sexiness of the corset, which is why I added that detail in the back," he said, fingering the ties that flowed down his model's back. "And the red just emphasizes her figure perfectly."

Sue, the owner of the leather shop, nodded. "You've done a fantastic job of striking just the right balance. This is something I'd be proud to sell in my shop."

"Thanks," he said with a smile.

"All right designers," Heidi looked at each of them. "We'll call you back when we've made our decision of who's the winner this week, and who will be out."

As they walked back to the green room to wait, Vala grabbed hold of him halfway down the runway, looping her arm through his.

"So sweetheart, it's you or me this week in the winners circle."

"Seems that way. I hate to tell you, but it looks like your boyfriend's out."

She shrugged. "There are always others if he's gone. I'm a butterfly, sweetheart. I can't stay tied to one man."

Rodney chuckled, rolling his eyes. "I still don't understand that kind of draw."

"Mmm, variety is the spice of life."

"I guess you and Evan have a similar outlook," he said as they walked into the green room.

"Yup. Only problem is we're both after the same men. It's a crime he won't sleep with me just because I don't have a penis."

"I think Evan's equal opportunity, honestly."

"Maybe, but he had his eye on a certain piece of ass for a while. Maybe I should try again..." Her eyes got speculative.

Rodney sighed as his eyes slid to where John and Evan were talking. "Whatever floats your boat."

"If I catch his attention, he'll stop chasing your little piece of ass."

"Maybe."

Her expression turned a bit more serious. "Look, far be it from me to get involved, but you should know John was pretty torn up about what happened between you two. Evan took advantage of that. John wouldn't have sought it out or agreed if Evan hadn't been so persistent. He wanted John, and he was determined to have him."

"I don't want to go into it."

She shrugged again. "That's fine. I just wanted you to know that he didn't go running to the first guy he saw, and I think he really regrets it now. He's not the type to sleep around like Evan and I."

"I guess," Rodney said with a shrug, trying to pull his arm free of her grip.

She let go. "Whatever. Just thought I'd tell you. Now, I think I'll go try to lure Evan's attention away. That man can fuck, and I want a piece of it."

Rodney sighed, turning toward the food tables at the other end of the room. He grabbed a water and found a chair in a quiet spot to sit.

Vala had lured Evan away, so John wandered over, looking shy. "Can I sit down?" He gestured toward the empty chair next to Rodney.

"Sure. Be my guest."

Sitting down, John sipped on his water, but didn't say anything.

Rodney let his brain shut off for a while, staring a little blankly at the opposite wall. He was tired, exhausted really. Physically and emotionally drained. He needed a few weeks off to recover, but he still had more challenges to get through, more to do.

A hand touched his knee softly, making him jump. John drew it back like he had been burned, but he gestured. "They're calling you guys back on stage."

"What? Oh…already?" He shook his head, trying to get some of the cobwebs to clear.

"You've been spacing out for about forty-five minutes."

"That long? Oh. Ah…thanks." He shifted off the chair as they called for him again. "I should…" He pointed to the door.

"Yeah." John hesitated. "You okay?"

Rodney paused, scrubbing a hand over his face, debating on how to answer. He settled for simplicity. "No. Not really. But…" He shrugged. "I need to go."

John nodded. "If you want to talk later, you know where to find me."

"You know most of it already," he said as he took a few steps. "Nothing much more to tell."

"Yeah, but sometimes just talking helps. Go find out if you won or not. Good luck."

Rodney nodded as he headed out, dropping his water bottle in the trash before he hit the runway area. Everyone else was already there and waiting for him. "Sorry, sorry."

Heidi smiled. "It's okay."

He stepped onto his spot and took a deep breath, waiting.

"Designers, this week you were asked to create classy looks out of a material better known for its burlesque associations. Some of you took the challenge to heart and created fantastic designs. Others didn't quite make the mark."

Rodney smirked, tilting his head up a little. He knew his design was good.

Heidi looked at each of them. "Vala, you are the winner this week. It was a tough decision, but ultimately, your sense of style won out."

Rodney tried to keep his smile, but he knew it was a losing battle. He had really wanted to win.

"Vala, your design will be featured on Bluefly.com, as well as a version for sale at The Underground. Rodney," Heidi turned to him. "Because this challenge was so close, Sue has asked to sell a version of your design, as well, at The Underground."

"Really?"

It was Sue who nodded. "They were both really fantastic, and I know my customers will love them both."

"Thank you."

Heidi smiled. "You may both leave the runway."

They walked off the runway and Rodney had a bounce in his step. So he didn't win, but he still got a really amazing bonus. Although, winning would have been better.

Vala grinned at him. "Want to place bets on whose sells better?"

"Mine, of course," he grins at her.

"What'cha wanna wager?"

Rodney shakes his head. "Oh no. That I will not do. I've lost fortunes when I gamble, but I know whose design will sell better. I know."

She laughed. "Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?"

They stepped into the green room together, and four sets of eyes focused in on them.

Vala waved. "I won!"

"But they're selling both of our designs at Sue's shop," Rodney added with his own proud smile.

"Congrats!" Evan bounded over catching Vala in a big hug.

Rodney looked up, catching a hesitant look on John's face for a brief moment and then the mood was gone. Radek pulled him into a hug congratulating him and pounding him on the back.

"You were both very good! Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Rodney said with a smile as he pulled himself out of Radek's hug. "They ripped apart Elizabeth's and Daniel's designs."

As if on cue, everyone turned to look to see which of them would come back through. "I think it will be Elizabeth going home," Radek said quietly. "Her design was quite awful."

"They both were," Rodney said, getting a glare from the other competitors. "Hey! It's true. It's not like I'm making it up. We all know it. I'm just the only one with the balls to say it."

Laura rolled her eyes. "You're not supposed to openly criticize the competition. You're supposed to say nice things in the large group, then pan them behind everyone's backs."

"Why? I'd much rather be upfront about it."

She laughed. "I know. That's why I like you."

"Today you like me. Yesterday you hated my guts."

"No, I didn't."

"You glared at me for days. It's like I kicked your puppy or something."

She rolled her eyes again. "Because you moved away from my station so we couldn't talk anymore, idiot."

"And I dumped John."

The room went very quiet, as everyone tried to listen in. Laura just rolled her eyes. "I really don't care who you fuck, Rodney. I was mad because we couldn't banter while we worked anymore."

"Right. You weren't talking to me before I moved workstations."

"Yes, I was. You were just ignoring me with your headphones on."

"Whatever," he said, moving to push past her.

She followed him back to the tables, dropping her voice so everyone couldn't listen in. "Seriously. I kept trying to get your attention, and you totally ignored me. I thought you were doing it on purpose. That's why I was pissed when you moved, because I thought you were dissing me."

"Not having this conversation," he said, picking up a bottle of water.

"Fine." She rolled her eyes again. "Anyway, congrats on having another design sold."

"Thanks," he said quietly, twisting off the top of the bottle.

She moved away to chat with some of the others while they all waited to find out who was going home.

It didn't take long before Daniel and Elizabeth returned, Elizabeth offering a sad hand wave as she stepped in the room. "It's me. I'm out."

There were lots of hugs after that, and even a few tears. Rodney rolled his eyes. Designers.

Radek was glued to his side about two minutes later just like he had been that morning. And honestly, it was just easier to let the Czech push and prod him where he needed to go than argue.

The producers took them to dinner at a local Italian place, then they were back at the apartment toasting to all surviving another round with bottles of champagne.

Champagne which went right to his head.

He had no idea what time it was when he finally fell into bed, but they had been told the following day was for resting up, so it didn't matter.

All he clearly remembered was Radek shoving him into his bed and then nothing until he clawed his way to wakefulness sometime the next day. He had a raging headache and his mouth tasted like feet.

A quick glance at the clock showed it was nearly noon.

He groaned as he moved his head a few centimeters before dropping it back down onto the pillow, willing away the pain and dizziness.

"There is aspirin on the bedside table, along with water, when you are alive enough to take them."

"Stop yelling," he moaned, trying to bury his head inside his pillow.

Radek snorted. "There is also much toast and other non-threatening food in the kitchen."

Nausea reared its ugly head at the mention of food and Rodney dry heaved a little. "Oh god, no."

"I do not wish to watch you be sick. I will be in kitchen should you decide to be human today."

Rodney huddled into his bed, trying to remember just how much he'd drank the night before. He only clearly remembered several glasses—one or three, maybe—but this was the result of much more than that. Give him beer or vodka any day. Champagne hangovers sucked.

He vaguely heard people moving around outside the bedroom, but no one else poked their head in. At one point he caught a snatch of Radek telling someone not to enter, that he was resting.

Rodney was thankful that no one bothered him, but he also knew he had to get up and eat something soon—whether or not he threw it up promptly five minutes later. His blood sugar was probably starting to circle the proverbial drain.

It took him a few tries to sit up, but he was surprised to find a plate of dry toast next to the aspirin and water. He had no idea when Radek had brought that in.

The water and pain meds were first. He attempted two bites of toast but then gave up when his stomach lurched.

A little while later, he heard the door open, and a few clinks that signaled dishes being removed. But since he didn't open his eyes, he had no idea who it was.

His bladder, though, started yelling a little louder than it had been, reminding him about the sheer volume of liquid he'd consumed. But that meant he had to drag himself out of bed.

To his surprise, while he didn't feel great, by the time he finished peeing, he didn't feel like he wanted to die anymore. He dragged his boxers and t-shirt off and turned the water in the shower on. He stepped under the water, adjusting it until it was perfect.

He heard the bathroom door open. To his surprise, it was John's voice. "Hey, Rodney? We're making a light dinner. You think you're going to want anything?"

"What?" he asked, shoving himself away from the wall and opening the shower door.

John's face showed shock, then lust, both quickly hidden. "Ah... sorry. I just... I'm making a quick dinner, and I heard the shower, so I thought maybe you'd want something..."

Rodney blinked a few times and then looked down at himself. "Oh…sorry. I…ah…"

He watched John swallow, hard. The pair of sweatpants he was wearing didn't do anything to hide his body's reaction. "I'll just be... I have to... sorry!"

John was gone seconds later, the door slamming closed behind him. Rodney stood there for several minutes, trying to figure out exactly what happened, kind of realizing that he'd unintentionally flashed John.

And the other man had gotten very aroused, very fast by the sight of it.

Rodney cleaned up and managed to stumble out of the bathroom a few minutes later, pulling clean clothes onto his semi-damp body. He made his way out into the kitchen looking for John.

Radek raised an eyebrow when he spotted him. "Whatever you have done to fluster John, it was quite amusing the way he came running from room."

"I didn't mean to."

"This does not surprise me. He is up on the roof, if you wish to look for him."

Rodney sighed and turned on his heel, heading back into his room. He grumbled under his breath as he pulled on his shoes. He headed out of the apartment a few minutes later, wandering up to the roof.

It took him a few minutes to find John huddled up, almost hiding behind one of the chimneys.

"John?" He paused a few feet away, not wanting to spook him more.

The other man looked up, his eyes wide. "Dirty Czech. He told you I was out here, didn't he?"

"I didn't…I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to do anything…I'm still hung-over."

John lowered his head. "I'm the one who's sorry. I barged in and... I had no right. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fuck things up again."

"John," Rodney said, taking a few steps closer. "I wasn't thinking—obviously. I really didn't mean to flash you."

Looking up, John gave him a wry smile. "Oh, I didn't mind the view. I just hate that I've now taken advantage of you. Again."

Rodney squinted at him. "Taken advantage? Um…what?" He rubbed his head, wishing the fuzziness and the ache would go away.

"You've made it clear you don't really want to have... that kind of relationship. Not with me, not right now. I knew that before I walked in. I guess I thought I could just talk to you with the curtain between us and it would be fine, I could get close to you without really... compromising anything. But that backfired, and I'm sorry."

"I shouldn't have flashed you."

"I shouldn't have put you in that position in the first place."

"Can we just stop apologizing now and go back inside? My head hurts and this is just too complicated to talk about right now."

John gave him a shy smile. "You're not pissed at me?"

"No. I can try to work myself into a righteous anger tomorrow if you want. Right now, I'm still fighting my hangover. I can only fight one battle at a time."

That got a small chuckle, and John stood up. "I know that feeling. I didn't have enough last night to be hung over, but I've been there before."

"Seems to be the story of my life."

"You were having fun last night."

"I honestly don't remember."

"You do a mean Tim Gunn impression."

"Great. Just great," he groaned as they made their way back downstairs.

The other man chuckled, letting Rodney head in the door first.

"So, I thought you were making dinner before you ran to hide on the roof."

"I was."

"So…where's my food?"

"Well, you never did tell me if you wanted anything."

"It's not like you gave me the chance."

"Yeah... I panicked."

Rodney snorted. "So that's what you call running and hiding these days."

John gave him a shy smile.

Rodney rolled his eyes as he climbed up to perch on a bar stool. "So. What's for dinner?"

"Well, since most of the house was hung over, we're going light. Potato pancakes."

"You think potato pancakes are light?"

"Well, better than eggs."

Rodney thought for a long moment and then nodded when his stomach did a small flip just at the sound of eggs. "Probably. How about regular pancakes? With maple syrup and whatnot? I know you can make them."

"That's not really dinner. More... breakfasty."

"IHOP serves breakfast all day. What's wrong with that? I can go down the street, you know. I'm sure the waitress there won't argue with me."

With a shrug, John conceded the point. "I guess I can make regular pancakes too, if you want them."

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Course not." John started pulling all the stuff out of the cabinets that he would need.

Rodney watched John move around the kitchen, his brain still aching from the night before. It was easier just to sit there, partially paying attention to John as he cooked.

It didn't take too long before a plate was pushed in front of him, the pancakes done just the way he liked them. He lifted his head, blinking a few times before he gave John a smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." John returned the smile, and then went back to finishing dinner as people wandered out and made requests.

Rodney managed to get through most of the pancakes—they were amazing—before finally pushing the plate away. People buzzed around him, talking and laughing, but he was content to just sit in the corner on the stool watching everything pass by. His brain still hadn't fully turned on yet.

In a way, it was nice to just let himself zone out, let his brain rest after the grueling pace the competition had set.

Granted, some of it wasn't intentional—thanks to copious amounts of alcohol the night before—but it was certainly welcome. Everything was soft and a little slow…languid almost. It was kind of…nice.

He huffed to himself at one point, getting a strange look from John. He just gave him a soft smile and received a tentative one from John in return.

It was…nice.

***

John Sheppard was one very confused designer.

One minute Rodney was kicking him to the curb, and the next he was flashing him and giving him come-hither smiles that made John’s insides want to liquefy. And he had no idea which one to follow—what Rodney told him, or how he acted. So for the moment, he just tried to walk very, very softly.

And then the shower thing… God. He hadn't been expecting to see that…all of…that.

Just thinking about it made his cock pulse a little, as if it was telling him to get on with it already. John studiously tried to ignore it.

It was hard to ignore, though, when Rodney kept smiling at him. He didn't remember Rodney being so…soft around the edges when he got hung over that first time. Although, he hadn't gotten sick this time, either—which was a good thing in John's book.

Vala slid up next to him, wrapping her arm around his waist. "You're quiet tonight."

Raising an eyebrow, John glanced over at her. "That's a bad thing?"

"Unusual. Means you're planning something. Going to try to jump him again?"

John shook his head. "No. If he decides he wants more than friendship, it will have to be him that makes the move this time. I already crashed and burned."

Rodney picked that moment to glance over at John, his eyes lingering as he smiled before turning back to the group playing poker in the living room. John had to swallow hard. Damn, he hated mixed signals.

"Do you think he's still drunk?" Vala asked leaning in close. "He's never this relaxed."

John shook his head, wishing they weren't having this conversation. "I think, like everyone else, he's taking the chance to decompress while we've got it."

"I guess." She was quiet for a long moment before she leaned in again. "He's kind of cute like this."

John glared at her. "Are you trying to bait me?"

She blinked innocently at him. "I'm just making conversation and you seem to be staring at him, so…"

He tried to shake her off, but she was persistent. "Look, I won't deny I'm still attracted to him. But he made it clear he doesn't want me right now. So I'm content to be his friend."

"So, I can go after Evan?"

John shrugged again. "He's kind of lost interest in me already, honestly. So go ahead. I knew going in all he wanted was a little sex, and while I can now say I've had the experience of a fling... it's really not my thing. I prefer my sex to be in a relationship, no offense."

"None taken," she said with a smile. "I had to ask, though, because he's really well hung and well…" She shrugged. "I didn't want to step on your toes."

John had to smile. "No stepping at all."

"Good. That's good," she said with a smile. "It's too bad they're not playing strip poker. That would be fun to watch."

John had to laugh and shake his head. "You're incorrigible, you know that right?"

"Me?"

"Yes. You." He grinned.

"But you have to admit I'm not boring."

"That's true."

She was silent a few minutes longer and then shifted away from John. "I’m going to see what Daniel's cards are. He's not doing well. Go talk to your friend," she said, giving him a shove toward Rodney.

Stumbling, John nearly went head first over the couch. That was more than just a gentle push. He glared at her, but she just grinned unrepentantly, so he had to shake his head. How could he get mad at that?

He ended up on the stool next to Rodney a few minutes later, sitting down gently. Rodney blinked at him and smiled, making his stomach twist. "Vala giving you problems?"

John shrugged. "She's just being Vala."

"So the answer's yes." Rodney grinned at him again.

John found his body's reaction and smiled back. "Yeah."

"She still trying to convince you to perform for her?"

"No. Now she wanted to know if the way was clear for her to hit on Evan. I told her it was fine. I discovered I don't really like the whole fling thing, honestly."

"Ah," Rodney said with a knowing nod.

John gave a self-conscious shrug.

The silence stretched between them for nearly fifteen minutes—and several plays—before Rodney shifted on his seat. "I should probably head to bed. Have to perform tomorrow."

"Yeah. And knowing the producers, it will be another doozy."

"Probably. We're getting closer to the end."

"Good luck tomorrow."

"You, too," Rodney said and then smirked a little. "Because you need it."

John smirked right back at him. "We'll just see, won't we?"

"I guess we will," he said, climbing off his stool.

John couldn't help but watch his ass as he walked out of the room.

He watched the rest of the contestants play cards for a little while longer until Radek finally stood, throwing in his hand. "I give up. You cheat. It is time to go to bed."

"It's not cheating just because you can't win." Evan grinned.

"I see that…woman," Radek pointed to Vala, "giving you looks. Cheating."

"She's making eyes at me. That's not cheating."

"So you claim." He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand up even more. "You play. Cheat among yourselves. I am going to bed."

A soft laugh went around the group, along with a chorus of good-nights. John stood up as well. "I think I'll call it quits, too, guys. Don't stay up too late or beating you tomorrow will be too easy."

He got a round of teasing as he headed to bed, Radek wandering down the hall to the room he now shared with Rodney. John could hear the Czech talking to the Canadian as soon as Radek walked in the door, his voice cajoling.

John sighed. He wasn't going to push it. Rodney was talking to him again, so he wasn't going to rock the boat. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and climbed into bed.

Morning came faster than he wanted and it was raining when he woke, the water pounding against the window.

Making a face, nevertheless he got up and changed into his running gear. It would be a short jog today, but when he didn't take it, he just felt a step behind the rest of the day. With the competition getting down to the wire for the final three who would go to Fashion Week, he needed to do everything he could to stay at the top of his game.

He paused in the lobby just before stepping outside. It was monsooning.

Making another face, he forced himself to take the step outside, and then reasoned since he was already drenched he might as well. He did the shorter of the loops he had been alternating between since starting the show, and was back to the building in record time. He felt like a drowned cat as he made his way back upstairs, with his clothes plastered to his body like a second skin.

He made his way into the apartment not really paying much attention to where he was going—more to what he was dripping on the carpet—when he walked into a solid and warm body mass.

With an oof, he stumbled back. "Sorry, sorry..."

"What…John?" Rodney was dressed in a t-shirt and boxers and half of him was now wet. His eyes were really blue, John noticed, as they opened wide staring at him.

His body immediately responded, and with his clothes as form-fitting as they currently were, there was no way to hide it. He felt his cheeks go up in flames. "Ah... sorry... it's really wet out there... I'll just be... um..."

"What happened to you?"

"Jogging. It's raining pretty hard out there." John could feel his blush heating up further as Rodney didn't move from where he had more or less accidentally blocked John against the wall.

"You went out there? On purpose?"

"For my jog, yeah."

"But it's like…a hurricane or something."

"Just wet. Really, really wet." John licked his lips. He could almost feel Rodney's body heat in contrast to how cold he was.

"Yeah…you are."

"I should probably go shower and get changed."

"You're already all wet. Just need to add soap."

John licked his lips again and nodded. Rodney still hadn't moved and his body was refusing his silent commands that this wasn't a great time to stand up and be noticed.

Rodney blinked a few times at John before his brain finally kicked into gear and he was jumping back, his face turning instantly red. "I'm sorry! I…" He ran off seconds later, but John was able to see—thanks to thin boxer material—that Rodney had been just as affected.

Taking a deep breath, John slunk back into the bedroom and grabbed his clothes, glad to be stripping out of the cold, wet gear.

The rest of the morning was uneventful—thankfully—even if Rodney kept sending him strange side-long looks. They made it over to Parsons, but even before they could settle down they were sent to the Parsons main auditorium where it looked like a clothing store exploded in the seats and all over the stage.

The producers let them wander through, and one thing stood out - as much as it had, at first, seemed to be an eclectic mix of stuff, it was all from the same design label—O'Neill Fashion.

John spotted Tim up on stage with another man standing alongside him with close-cut grey hair. He was dressed in jeans and an oversized button-down and did not look at all like a designer.

"Welcome, designers," Tim said with a smile. "Make your way down to the stage please."

They all wandered down, lining up. There weren't many of them left.

Vala was next to him, elbowing him and giving him knowing looks. Tim continued as soon as they were standing in front of him.

"Well, designers, you have a special challenge this week. As you can see, all of the clothes in here are part of O'Neill Fashion and we have Jack O'Neill, the owner, with us as this week's guest judge."

They all looked around at each other. O'Neill seriously didn't look like what John would have pictured. He was known for being a little off-the-wall, but at the same time sophisticated, but still...

"My designs are known for being very comfortable to wear and easy to maintain—friendly fashion with a bit of fun," O'Neill said. "I'm an easy-going guy. I like beer and pie and football and I want my designs to reflect that kind of…mentality."

Tim nodded. "Your challenge this week, designers, is to design something both fashionable enough for the runway, but wearable enough for the everyday woman."

"The winning design will be added to my newest line," O'Neill said, adding with a smile, "No pressure."

A thrill went through them all. Not only would they win this week, but their design would be part of a live, popular collection. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

"You have thirty minutes now to look at the last three season's worth of O'Neill Fashion designs and sketch your addition to his line. Then we'll be heading to Mood go get your fabric."

"And your time starts... now!" When Tim said the word, they all scattered, gravitating toward certain pieces and parts of the collection to look at the sketches that had been preliminary ideas, along with the final pieces that came out of them. It was an amazing glimpse into how O'Neill worked.

By the time they were headed to Mood, John had several strong design possibilities running through his mind. All would work, but which one would be the best? It would depend on the fabrics he could find. He just hoped Mood had what he needed, for the budget they had been given.

He wasn't surprised that the fabric-buying experience today was even more hectic than when there were sixteen contestants. This challenge really mattered. There were seven left and only three more challenges after this one. They were getting into the final stretch.

He got really lucky, finding a great fabric that was dark blue, with a lighter blue polka-dot pattern, along with several other rolls of fabrics in various shades of blue. He could work with this.

He got the fabric cut and then headed into the notions area, making sure he had all the buttons and zippers and hem tape he needed for the project. He passed Rodney several times, the other man paying absolutely no attention to anything other than his sketch and the bolts of fabric in his arms.

When Tim called time, they headed back to Parsons, everyone lost in their own little design worlds.

No one really surfaced for the next sixteen hours, working steadily, trying to create a garment out of nothing. Their models wandered in late in the day, getting measured and fitted. They finally were pulled out of the workroom at midnight, sent home to get some sleep.

John slept fitfully, dreaming of all the ways his design could go wrong. He was doing a pant suit, using a solid color, navy fabric as his base, and then layering the polka dots and other, lighter blue fabrics as all of his pockets and accents.

The producers didn't let them back in to work until almost 10 am, and they had to be ready for the show at 8 pm. Not enough time. There was never enough time.

At six when their models showed up for their final fittings, John was starting to panic.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I'm not going to be done. This is going to look horrible."

"I think Daniel only has half a garment, so you're doing better than he is, if it's any consolation," came the quiet comment from Rodney as he passed by, coffee cup in hand.

John looked up, panic making him shake. "I can't go home this week. I can't."

"You're almost there," Rodney said with a tight smile. "Breathe."

John nodded, and took a deep breath. He had to focus if he was going to get done. They only had two more hours. He had to make the most of it.

Two hours flew and as Tim announced they had to do downstairs, John was sewing his last bit. Two more stitches.

He quickly got them in on his model, just before Tim started telling him he had to go, now. He had made it, but just barely. He hated cutting it this close, because then he didn't have time to go back over everything and make sure it was perfect.

There was an open seat next to Rodney and he slid into it, the other man offering him a smile. "You finish?"

"I hope so. I'm not sure I want to watch."

"You know you can't look away."

"I know, but I'm afraid it's going to be a train wreck." John took a shaky breath. "I'm afraid it's going to be me going home this week."

"You didn't see Daniel's and Vala's did you?" he leaned over, whispering the question.

"They can't be as bad as mine is." John had an impending sense of doom.

"Oh yes, trust me. Way worse," he whispered. He straightened up a moment later when Heidi walked on the runway announcing the start of the show.

John bit his lip, and despite Rodney's reassurances, his eye only caught everything the others had done right, and everything he had forgotten or not finished the way he wanted to.

And the fact that Rodney's design looked like it he had spent $500 and two months working on it didn't help. How did he have the time to finish every seam the way he had?

By the time they were all standing in a line on the runway, John was convinced he was going home.

"Radek, please step forward," Heidi said, glancing down at her cards. John fought the urge to fidget.

"Congratulations, you are safe this week. You may leave the runway."

Heidi waited until he was gone and then faced the six of them. "You represent the best and worst designs this week. One of you will be in and one of you will be out. Let's bring out your models."

The models came out and each designer went through the examination, answering the questions of the judges. Their trip to stew in the green room was short this time, and John found himself declared safe moments after taking the stage a second time.

John's eyes widened. He was sure there had been a mistake. There was no way he was safe.

"Go before they change their minds," Rodney hissed at him.

Swallowing, eyes wide, John nodded and made his way off-stage. He sat down hard, stunned. He was safe. He was actually safe this week.

"Are you well?" Radek was hovering.

John looked up. "I was sure I was going home this week."

"You are safe. Breathe and relax. We shall see if Rodney's ego has overshadowed his good design sense soon."

John took a deep breath. "Wow. Yeah. Although this week, I don't think it will be him going home. His wasn't the worst up there."

"No, but sometimes judges are…not predictable."

"True."

A bottle of water appeared in his line of vision. "Relax. You are here for another challenge."

John took a long swig, and finally let some of his tension slide away. It didn't take long before Rodney appeared, relief and disappointment on his face. "I'm safe."

John was up and hugging him before he realized what he was doing. Quickly backing down with a blush, he still smiled. "That's great to hear!"

"I’m just…happy to be here."

"We survive to fight another week."

"That's for sure," Rodney said with a nod and a long look John couldn't identify.

It made him swallow hard. But fortunately, he was saved from trying to interpret that look by Evan walking in. "I won. I actually won."

Evan got a round of hugs from everyone and by the time John turned back to Rodney the Canadian was in a conversation with Radek, hands waving. He decided not to interrupt, and instead, waiting anxiously to see who would be going home—it was down to Daniel or Vala. Honestly, he was betting on Daniel. Now that he wasn't thinking about it convinced he was going home, he could acknowledge it was a bit of a disaster.

Vala showed up first, relief in her expression.

"You're safe?" John knew it was an obvious question, but that meant he had been right. Daniel was going home.

"I almost thought they were going to send us both home," Vala said with a nod.

"Wow." Everyone gave her shocked expressions. "That would have been... wow." Evan stepped forward to give her a hug. "I'm glad you're still here, though."

"So am I," she said with a dirty little chuckle and a wiggle of her hips. Evan's grin was downright dirty. John knew a bedtime romp was not far behind.

"Oh, would you just stop already," Rodney asked, annoyance in his voice.

"Why?" Vala grinned at him.

"Because I don't need to know that you're going home to fuck even though there's no doubt you will," Rodney said just as Daniel walked in the door.

Everyone rushed over to him, and John noted Vala was giving him a very... friendly hug. At least the criers were all gone now.

They were ushered into the cars not long after with a reminder that they had another challenge tomorrow.

Once back at the apartment, they found that all their stuff had been moved into one space. John and Evan's things were now in the room with Rodney and Radek, and Vala and Laura's stuff had been moved into the other room. The girls' apartment across the hall was locked and closed up.

"Oh nice of them to tell us!" Rodney complained as he stood in the apartment, hands on his hips.

Radek shrugged. "We gave up rights to know when we joined this contest. I remember seeing it in the contract, that they could move our quarters at any time, without notice."

"I had my stuff right where I wanted it."

"Your stuff has not been moved. We are only ones who are in the same place."

"You don't know that for sure," Rodney huffed, moving into the bedroom. "I don't like people touching my stuff."

John tuned out the grumbling as he went to see where his bed was now. He was right next to Rodney. They were trying to kill him.

"Look at this!" Rodney yelled from the bathroom. "They moved my stuff."

With a sigh, John headed back out. Both Laura and Vala had spent more time over in this apartment than the other anyway, so it didn't feel like much had changed, which was nice.

The girls were in the living room sipping on beers and chatting.

John grabbed a beer out of the fridge and plopped down on the opposite couch. "So what do you think they'll have us doing tomorrow?"

"Costume, definitely," Laura said immediately. "Something absolutely fabulous."

Vala nodded. "They haven't given us anything really big and eye-popping yet. I vote with Laura on this one."

"No," Radek said, coming up behind John. "It will be avant-garde. Something fashion forward."

John nodded. "I agree. We kind of did have a costume challenge already, but nothing that could really be called avant-garde."

"What does it matter?" Rodney chimed in from the kitchen. "We're going to do it no matter what it is."

Vala laughed. "True. But what else are we going to do tonight?"

"I'm going to bed. No alcohol for me," Rodney said, pulling a water bottle from the fridge. "You can stay up all night fucking for all I care."

"Are you giving us permission?" Vala gave him an arch look.

"I didn't think you needed permission."

Vala just laughed. Given the looks she and Evan were sharing, John decided to quietly slip out of the room as well. He didn't want to get pulled into more fling sex, and he wouldn't put it past Evan or Vala to try for a threesome.

Rodney walked into the bedroom a few minutes later, pausing in the doorway. "Oh…hi."

"Hi. Don't mind me. I'm just going to get changed and head to bed."

"Me, too." Rodney said, falling silent. John could feel his eyes on him as he moved around the room.

He did his best to ignore the way it made certain parts of him heat up. It didn't take him long to find his sweatpants and get changed before he turned back to the bed that was now his.

Rodney was fussing with the blankets on his bed, looking anywhere but at John.

With a mostly silent sigh, John slipped under his covers. "Night."

"Night, John," Rodney said, just as quietly. "I'm sorry about this…you know."

"It's fine. We're friends again, so no worries."

"Still. I didn't mean to do this. I didn't."

John shrugged before remembering Rodney couldn't see it with all the blankets in the way. "We're just friends. It's fine. Really." It wasn't, but John wasn't opening himself up to that pain again.

"I wasn't planning on befriending anyone."

"We're all here to try and win. Nothing wrong with that."

"And honestly, no one ever likes me, even when I'm trying to be nice. So I never thought it would be a problem. Never considered the possibility of something…happening. So I wasn't prepared for it."

John sighed again. "Rodney. It's fine. We can just forget it ever happened, okay?"

"But I can't."

"Look, I'm sorry I messed with your ability to focus on the game. I understand it was something you didn't want to happen, and I promise it won't happen again. I'm not sure what else I can do."

"Nothing," Rodney said, sounding miserable. "It's all me."

John wanted to go to him, but that was a bad idea. "I promise I won't come on to you again, and we can just be friends."

"But I don't want to be friends! Don't you get it?"

It was like a knife through his chest. "I... I'm sorry. I'll just try to leave you alone then. Stay out of your way until you don't have to see me anymore."

Rodney was at his side moments later. "That's not what I meant."

John turned his head away. "Look, it's okay. You don't really want anything to do with me. I messed up your concentration and you're pissed about it."

"No. I'm mad at myself."

John finally turned his head. "I don't know what you want from me."

Rodney looked miserable. "I know if I go for what I want, I'll screw up any chance of actually doing well here, but I keep thinking about…" Rodney sighed. "Why am I even telling you this?"

John swallowed hard. "So you still want me as much as I still want you?"

He nodded. "I think so, yes."

John had to close his eyes. "That doesn't make it any easier for me to stay away from you."

"I know. I'm an idiot for saying something, but…"

"So where does that leave us?"

"I don't know."

"I can't... I can't go through that again. When you're ready, if you're ever ready, for something more than friendship, let me know. Until then, we'll just... be friends."

"I'm not good at that, not when I want something else."

John licked his lips. "Where does that leave us then?"

"In a really awkward position," Rodney said with a miserable little smile.

John sighed. "Look, when you figure out what you want, just let me know, okay?"

Rodney collapsed a little into himself and nodded. "Sorry," he said quietly, rising from the bed. "I know I shouldn’t have said anything and I’m sorry."

John got up, catching his hand. "Rodney. I want you. I want to be with you, and while sex is part of it... I think we could be more. It won't happen if either of us goes into it without being willing to see it to the end."

"I know. And you have no idea how hard it is for me to walk away from you right now. If it weren't for this damn competition…" He glanced away.

"We're nearing the end. Why don't we both agree to just be friends until then, and if we both still want it, after this is over, we go out on a real date, and then take it from there?"

Rodney nodded silently. "You should go to bed. You need the rest."

John took a deep breath. "If you wanted to push your bed over here, I wouldn't mind."

Rodney lifted his head, turning toward John. "Are you sure?"

John nodded. "I... I'll sleep better. I know I haven't gotten much since you and I...you know."

Rodney's mouth twitched. "I know you've…gotten some…"

John shrugged. "It was... an interesting experience, and I won't lie, Evan is good at sex, but... without anything behind it, it's kind of…hollow."

"I can imagine," Rodney said, squeezing John's hand. "And…we can…push the beds together. If you want."

John nodded. "Let's do that. Nothing will happen but sleeping, but... we'll see where it goes after the show from there, okay?"

Rodney nodded. "Okay."

John helped him push the beds together. When they both crawled under the covers, there was a bit of awkwardness until John mentally rolled his eyes and just pulled Rodney into his arms and settled them both down. It was... right.

Rodney's body was tense in his arms.

"Just sleep."

"I can't just…will my body and brain to sleep. It doesn't work that way."

"You don't have to. Just close your eyes and work on relaxing your muscles."

"My eyes are closed. It's not working."

John sighed. "If you want to push the beds apart again, we can. It's fine."

"You're just so…hot. I never get the hot ones."

"Okay, seriously, I'm not really all that."

"Yeah, you are."

"Not really."

"Seriously hot," Rodney said, his voice lowering. "Can't wait to show you off to Jeannie and Carson. Prove to them I can do something right."

That startled a laugh out of John. "You're going to make me nervous. I'm just... me."

"Really pretty," Rodney said, chasing the words with a yawn as his body started to relax, molding into John.

Huffing, John could no longer resist the urge to press a soft kiss into Rodney's neck. "Night."

Rodney hummed, relaxing further.

Closing his eyes, John let his own body relax, drifting off into the first good sleep he had had in more than a week.

***

Rodney was stewing the next day on the way to Mood to buy fabric.

Teal'c! What kind of name is that? And he thinks he's a designer? His stuff was atrocious! Avant-garde, my ass. That was train wreck!

Next to him, John had his sketch book open on his lap, still fiddling with his design.

"This is…this is…" he hissed, unable to find the words to appropriately convey the depth of his hatred at this challenge.

"Really hard?"

"And who the hell is Teal'c? I've never heard of him."

"I've never heard of him either. But he must be someone, otherwise he wouldn't be a guest judge."

"A wannabe probably," Rodney grumbled, looking out the window.

He felt John's shrug. "Doesn't change that we've got to really wow them in this one."

Rodney sighed loudly. "Doesn't make me any happier about it."

"I know." John's hand patted his knee.

Rodney snorted, trying to pull together his thoughts so he could make something fashion forward and not too costume-y. It would all depend upon the fabric he could find for $250. That wasn't enough for anything.

Once they were at Mood, for once, everyone wasn't running around like rabid chickens. Instead, they were all looking more carefully to find just the right fabrics.

Rodney wanted something striking, a midnight blue with a sheen to be specific. He needed to find it if he had any hope in hell to actually win this.

It was getting near the end of their shopping trip when he finally found exactly what he had been looking for.

The bolt held a good amount of material, but would it be enough? He needed yards and yards of it to get the design right. He pulled out interfacing as well, getting it cut and recorded before he ran into the notions area, grabbing the last few things he'd need.

He made it with about thirty seconds to spare before Tim called time.

They had two days to do this challenge, and Rodney didn't think it was going to be enough time. How could you create a couture fashion piece in that short an amount of time? It wasn't possible.

When they got back to the workroom, everyone got down to business. He still hadn't moved his stuff back to his old station, so he didn't see John until he took a short break about half-way through the day, wandering over to check out what the other man was doing. John had chosen to go with a red and gold theme for his colors, but he had picked out fabrics in a variety of different sheens and textures.

It was…different and honestly Rodney thought if John wasn't careful it was going to look like a circus costume.

The other man looked up, and smiled. "Hey."

"Hi," he said, pointing toward the kitchen. "I'm getting coffee."

John straightened and stretched a little, his shirt straining against his chest. "I'll join you. I could use a few minutes to let my brain rest."

Rodney hummed, his mouth twitching into a smile. He was so tempted to make a crack about that, but he was trying to be nice. John gave him a wry smile suggesting he knew at least the gist of what Rodney was thinking, and followed him into the break room.

He bee-lined to the coffee maker, pouring himself the largest mug of the stuff they had available, dumping in sugar and milk so it was perfect. "So, you seem to be making good progress."

John nodded. "I have a vision, and this time I was careful to figure out ahead what my time management needed to be so I don't have another one like yesterday."

"That's good."

"How about you?"

Rodney offered a shrug as he took a sip of his coffee. Perfect. "I think I’m doing okay. Tim seemed to like my idea when he came through before."

"Good. He said if I can take it where I want to go, it will be good, but I have to be careful. I know it looks weird right now, but it will all come together at the end, I hope."

"Visions of sugar plum fairies dancing in my head…"

One of John's eyebrows just went up.

"If you're not careful, they might be using your design as the next costume for the next fantasy movie or something."

John made a face. "I know it's a fine line, but that's what avant-garde is."

"I'm just saying."

"Yeah, yeah. I know I'm either going to be in the love it or hate it group. But I need to prove I deserve to be here."

"You deserve to be here," Rodney said immediately, firmly. "Trust me. You're good."

John shrugged. "After last week, I feel like I need to prove it, if only to myself."

"I think you're doing fine, but that's just my opinion," Rodney said, only to be interrupted by Tim who was calling them all together.

He exchanged a look with John. "That's never good."

"No. Never," Rodney said moving into the workroom with John.

Tim clapped his hands together. "Gather round, gather round."

He fell into line next to everyone else, and the same worried vibe was radiating out of the rest of the designers as well.

"We have a little…twist for you," Tim said with a smile. "Instead simply creating one couture design, we also want you to design a low-end couture look."

Rodney's heart skipped.

"We'll give you $50 to spend at Mood and your design will be inspired by another designer's piece," Tim said, reaching into the velvet bag he had in his hand. "Okay…Evan. You're up first. What designer did you want to inspire your couture look piece?"

When Tim had said they had to use another designer's work as their inspiration, Rodney wanted to scream. This was going to be a nightmare.

"I'll take Vala," Evan said with a smile.

She squealed and gave him a hug.

"Laura is next," Tim said.

She looked around, biting her lip. "I think I'll take Evan."

"And up next is, John."

John didn't even hesitate. "Rodney."

There was a quiet comment, but Rodney and Tim ignored it, pulling out another name. "Radek."

"I believe I will take Laura."

"Two more left," Tim said, pulling out Vala's name next.

She gave Rodney a grin. "I'll take John."

"So that leaves Rodney with Radek," Tim said with a smile, leaving Rodney to curse silently. "You have ten minutes to sketch and then we'll head to Mood."

Vala gave Rodney a little wave as she headed to her station.

Rodney spent all ten minutes perched in front of Radek's garment, trying to figure out how he could make this into something that a regular person would wear. This was a nightmare.

When Tim gathered them up to go to Mood, he still had no idea what he was going to do. Radek's design was all yellow and white with silver things all over it.

Maybe if he stuck with the main colors…made a short, flowy dress… God. It was going to be a nightmare.

John banged his head on the car window next to him. "Okay, this is going to be harder than I thought."

"It's…I don't have enough time to finish the one garment, let alone two."

"I know. I had it all planned out... this is fucking nuts."

"How do they expect us to do all of this work?"

"They don't expect us to finish it all. I think the point is to see how fast we work, how creative we are, and how we hold up under pressure."

"This is a lot of pressure!"

"Tell me about it."

Rodney grumbled and folded into his seat. "This is…how can they think this is a good idea?"

"It's a contest. Survival of the fittest. We just have to be two of the ones who prove to be the strongest."

Rodney let the silence grow between them, sulking in his seat as they headed to Mood. They had fifteen minutes to shop. That's it. Fifteen minutes.

Where before they had all taken their time, somewhat, now it was a madhouse. People stumbled over each other as they all rushed to get everything, hopefully, that they needed.

Rodney got something that was in the color palette—a pale yellow and a bright white and some silver embellishments. Something had to work.

Before he could wrap his head completely around what he wanted to do, they were back at the workroom, and he now not only had a complicated piece to finish, he had to come up with a second piece and get it done too.

Taking a step back, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. First things first. He needed to finish up the design on the first garment and then he would start on the second. They had…half a day left. Two hours more on the first and the rest of the day for the second. That should work.

The rest of the day went in a blur. He didn't even know if the rest of the designers were working as hard as he was, since he tuned out absolutely everything except what he was doing.

By the time midnight rolled around and they were flashing the lights to get them to leave, Rodney was so, so far behind. He wasn't proud of the fact that one of the production assistants had to tug him away from his garments.

"Time's over for the day. You'll be back in here tomorrow. Come on."

"I can stay. I don't need to sleep," he said, trying to pull away from him.

"Only if you want to disqualify yourself from the competition and go home."

Rodney straightened. "No."

"Then you need to come with me and leave now."

Rodney signed and nodded, then put down his needle and thread. "I still have a lot to do," he whined as he was led from the workroom.

"You'll have tomorrow, just like everyone else."

"It's not enough time."

The guy shrugged. "That's the challenge this week."

"I know, I know," Rodney mumbled as he was led out of Parsons and to the waiting cars. Surprisingly the only empty seat was next to John.

"Hey. What took you so long?"

"I was working," Rodney said quietly, glancing over his shoulder at Radek and Laura in the back seat.

John smiled. "This is a rough one."

"I can't…it's impossible."

John squeezed his knee. "It will be fine."

"It's impossible. One was bad enough. I need another set of hands to deal with two."

"Trust me, I know." John sighed. "I don't think any of us will finish exactly the way we wanted to."

Rodney leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. "I'm so tired."

"Yeah." John rubbed his back.

He stayed like that for several minutes, letting John's touch soothe him. He sat up slowly, offering John a tired smile. "Thanks."

John's smile was genuine, but equally tired. "Welcome."

They stumbled into bed and back to the workroom the next morning, only to work furiously on their designs. By the time his models were there for final fittings, he was exhausted and wired at the same time. He sent one to hair and make-up as he finished fitting the other, wishing desperately for another set of hands. In the end, he just barely managed to get both girls out the door in time.

He was so tired he wanted to cry, but there was still hours left in the day. Hours.

They all filed in to their seats, and he was at least relieved to see no one really looked happy or smug. They were all in the same boat, at least, which gave him a chance.

"Welcome designers," Heidi said walking out on the runway. "We gave you a difficult challenge this week. To produce not one, but two looks. We'll see your couture avant-garde look first, and then the second look will be the lower-cost couture-inspired piece."

They all nodded, tired and anxious at the same time.

"Let's get this show started."

Heidi took her seat, and the music started, the models coming out one by one.

It was a wild show. The designs were really all out there. His looked…okay. He wasn't happy with the seaming on the one side, but it was in one piece.

When the second round of looks came out, the fact that they were all rushed was obvious. The level of work wasn't quite as high on any of them. At least his looked somewhat like Radek's design.

There were few enough of them now, so that instead of only some of them going through the runway critique, this time, it was all of them up there, with both models next to them.

"John," Heidi said, focusing on him. "Tell us about your design."

Rodney could almost hear John's heart beating from across the runway. "Well, I decided to find my inspiration in the sun motifs of the Mexican culture. I wanted to evoke the feeling of warmth and really capture both the textures and stylized designs in most of that artwork."

"I can see where you're going," Michael said, "but I’m not sure you got there."

John nodded. "I had to cut back at the end. I had planned to do some pieces that would feel like rays coming out of the top, but unfortunately, I had to decide to cut them when time started running out on me."

Michael nodded as Heidi looked down the line.

When they got to Rodney, Heidi smiled. "Please tell us about your inspiration."

"I wanted to inspire thoughts of night-time, of the crystal clear cloudless night sky, which is why I picked this really dark blue color."

Michael nodded. "I can see where you were going with it. The back, especially, I like the detailing you worked in."

"Thank you," Rodney said with tight smile.

They moved on down the line. Rodney was shocked that there hadn't been more comments. He knew it wasn't perfect.

When they got to the end of the line, Heidi looked them all over. "Thank you, designers. Please head backstage while we decide who's in, and who's out."

They all nodded, weary and exhausted beyond knowing, trudging off the runway and into the green room to wait. Rodney ended up on the couch with John, shifting into his personal space.

John didn't object, instead putting an arm around his shoulders. "Now we just wait. Joy."

"I just want to sleep," Rodney whined.

"Soon. Once they tell us who won and who goes home, we can head back to the apartment and crash."

"I hope they don't kick me off."

"Me, too." John hugged him a little tighter for a minute.

"Although, if I did lose we could have sex."

John's laugh was tired, but real. "There is that. But I don't want either of us to go home yet. I want us to be two of the people at Bryant Park."

"No. But right now, I just want to sleep," Rodney said with a sigh, closing his eyes.

"I know." John hugged him again.

John was surprisingly comfortable for such a boney man. Rodney was contemplating how that really worked when they got the call to go back on the runway. They were all dragging as they lined up, but the adrenaline of knowing you could win or go home made them all perk up slightly as the judges looked them over.

"John," Heidi said, looking intently at him. "Your design was solid, even if your techniques left a little to be desired. You're safe. You may leave the runway."

Rodney saw the relief in John's eyes as he headed off. Just before he disappeared, he mouthed Good Luck in Rodney's direction.

"Vala, your design was impeccably finished in the amount of time you had, but your concept was too boring. You are safe this week. You may leave the runway."

That just left Rodney, Evan, Laura and Radek. He just wanted to know already. Sometimes the overly dramatic stuff for the cameras was such a pain in the ass.

"Rodney and Evan, you have the top scores this week. One of you will be the winner," Heidi said, turning to the other two. "And that means, you have the lowest scores. One of you will be out."

It took a moment for that to sink in. He was, at the very least, safe this week. Relief flooded through him.

One more challenge and then it was the finals. He was almost there.

Heidi looked at him and Evan. "Evan, your design was clean and well executed. Rodney, you took a very creative vision, and brought it to life." She paused again. "Rodney…you are the winner."

"I am?"

She smiled. "You are. Congratulations. You may leave the runway."

"Thank you," Rodney said, shaking himself and high-tailing it off the runway. He didn't want to be there any longer than he needed to—lest they change their minds.

John was pacing when he walked in. "So?"

Rodney smiled crookedly. "I won."

John was suddenly there, whooping and giving him a huge hug. "Congratulations!"

Rodney hugged him back, letting John's enthusiasm wash over him. "Can I go to bed now?"

John laughed. "Soon. We're almost done here, then they'll take us all back."

"I know, I know," Rodney said, steering them both to the nearest couch.

They fell into it and grinned at each other. "One more and then we're headed to the finals."

"I know. It's…still amazing to think we're gotten his far."

"I know. I always hoped. But... I don't think I expected to make it this far, to be honest."

"I knew…always knew I'd make it this far if I didn't get distracted," Rodney said, yawning into John's chest.

John's fingers ran through his hair. "Don't fall asleep on me yet. We'll be back at the apartment soon."

"But I’m tired," Rodney whined, shifting closer to John. He vaguely heard Evan returning to the room, ignoring everything except the beating of John's heart.

"I know, but it will be worse if you start to fall asleep and then have to get up to go down to the car."

"I'll be fine."

"We're just about there. They only have to announce the person going home."

"How can you be so comfortable when you're so boney?"

"Huh?"

Rodney shifted, poking at John's hip. "Boney. But you're comfy."

John's laugh rumbled through him.

Rodney hummed, slinging his arm around John's middle.

After a moment, John nudged him. "Laura's going home. Let's go give her a hug."

"Comfy."

"I know. But we need to go tell her goodbye." John shifted him, trying to get him to move.

Rodney grumbled, but John managed to get him onto his feet. By that time he was awake, too, which was helpful. He gave Laura a hug and whispered something to her—he had no idea what—and got a tight squeeze in return before she moved onto someone else.

Then the producers were herding them out the door, and before they knew it, they were back in the apartment and falling into bed.

Rodney didn't remember taking off his clothes, but somehow they were gone and he was curled up in front of John, spooning. This was…nice. Really nice.

***

One more competition. Just one more, and then it would be the final four. John could barely believe he had made it this far.  

After the grueling last competition, the producers had given them the day off again, so the five remaining contestants were sitting around their living room playing Monopoly.

They were all exhausted but determined to make it to the final four.

It was, John reflected, going to be hard to lose any of them. While they were all very different, the five of them had, by virtue of the fact that they'd been together for a while now, become friends.

At this point it was hard to say who would stay and who would go. They were all good designers. It all depended on this last challenge—whatever it was.

It made them all nervous, knowing, in the end, it could be any of them going home. There wasn't a clear choice. So instead of worrying about it, with rain once again coming down in buckets outside, they had decided to play board games.

They'd made nachos and tacos and cheese fries—among other really bad foods—enjoying the time to rest and recuperate. They all needed it.

Rodney leaned back as he landed on Evan's hotel-filled property. "You cheated! You had to cheat. It is statistically impossible that I have landed on your property every time!"

Evan grinned. "It's only cheating if you consider buying key properties at certain intervals around the board wrong. That is the game after all. Of course, I think I did fail to mention that Monopoly was a cut-throat game in my house growing up, so I learned fast which ones to buy for the best chance at winning."

Rodney reached down and threw his remaining money at Evan. "I'm done. You wiped me out," he said, rising to his feet as he headed into the kitchen.

Evan grinned. "Who else wants to join him and cave to the inevitable Evan Empire?"

"I don't think so," Vala said, grabbing the dice and giving them a good throw as John gathered up the remains of Rodney's estate—two properties—and added them back into the game.

They played for another hour, with Rodney perched at John's shoulder, before John was the next to fall. "That's it. I'm out."

"I swear Evan's cheating," Rodney said, shaking his head. "No one is that good."

Evan just laughed as he raked in John's cash. "I worry about his childhood, if he had enough time to play Monopoly, the longest board game in the history of man, enough times to get this good."

"I guess," Rodney said, smiling down at John as he leaned into him.

John sat back, enjoying the warmth of Rodney next to him. The man put off a serious amount of heat.

"So what are we doing for dinner?" Rodney asked after watching a few more moves of the game. "We can order in if you want."

Everyone nodded. Radek stretched. He was the only one close to holding his own against Evan. "I do not wish to go out in this weather, and we are all too tired to cook. I do not care what we order in, as long as it is not Chinese."

"Oh, come on. I was thinking a nice pint of shrimp lo mein and some General Tso's chicken," Rodney whined.

Radek wrinkled his nose. "That... stuff... you call Chinese takeout is universally disgusting."

"So you can order something else."

"Why order from two places? Are you that set on the inedible trash that is the Chinese takeout in this city?"

"Just because you don't like it doesn't mean it's trash. It just means you have no taste," Rodney countered.

Radek sniffed. "Nevertheless, is there nothing else you will accept? That is my only request."

"I had my heart set on it, unless you can come up with something else that sounds better."

"There is an excellent Thai place not far from here, and they deliver. It is a similar cuisine, but superior."

"I don't want Thai," Rodney whined.

"It is nearly the same thing, only it does not taste bad."

"It doesn't taste right."

"That is because you are used to crap."

Rodney straightened up. "No, that's because you have no sense of taste because you burnt all of your taste buds on bad vodka!"

Radek rolled his eyes. "It is not your fault Americans have been raised to believe bad food is not bad. But trust me. That which you call Chinese takeout is not edible."

"I’m not American!"

"Close enough."

Rodney started to launch himself off the chair at Radek, but John caught him before he went too far.

"Hey, now, he's just trying to bait you." John managed to pull Rodney down onto the couch next to him. "We can order from more than one place."

Rodney scowled across the room, but let John settle him. "Sneaky Czech bastard."

Radek just smirked at him.

"That is just…" Rodney muttered under his breath.

John put an arm around Rodney and smiled. "So, what do you want? If everyone will write it down, I'll make the calls."

"Chinese."

"Yes, but you need to be more specific than that." John leaned over and grabbed one of the notepads and pens they had been using as they played. "Write down what you want, and pass it around."

Rodney took his time, thinking carefully before writing down his order, marking a big "Chinese food" headline at the top of the page.

He passed it to Vala next, and it made its way around the group.

When John got it back, there were four different cuisine requests. Evan wanted Italian. Radek wanted Thai. Vala was interested in Greek, Rodney in Chinese.

Rolling his eyes, John got up and headed to the kitchen, where the producers kept copies of all the take-out places they had deals with for the contestants to order from.

Of course, they had deals with an Italian joint and a Greek one. Thai and Chinese were out.

"Okay guys, slight problem. Seems we have a limited number of cuisines we can pick from if we want it on the house. For those of you who want something different, you can either choose something else, or pay out of pocket. We've got Greek, Italian, pizza, and a coffee shop that will deliver on Project Runway's dime."

Rodney sighed loudly. Evan and Vala just smiled. They were fine.

"So, Rodney, Radek, what will it be? You want to get what you have here, and have the cash to pay for it, or do you want something else?" John looked at the two of them.

"Fine," Rodney huffed, climbing to his feet to grab a menu from John.

Radek also wandered over, looking no happier. John leaned against the counter, deciding he wanted a gyro.

Since Thai usually had some kind of citrus in it, Rodney ended up picking several items from the Greek menu he knew were safe for him to eat. Radek decided on a chicken cutlet parm hero and a salad.

John placed the calls, and then they all sat back down to wait.

Thankfully the Greek food arrived first, allowing Rodney to gloat as he started shoveling his dinner into his mouth.

Italian was about ten minutes later, and then they all settled down to eat. Radek poured them all a glass of wine to go with dinner.

They finished up the game of Monopoly as they ate dinner, Evan coming out on top—which was no surprise to any of them.

It seemed like none of them were ready to start gearing back up for the challenge tomorrow, so instead, they talked about where they were from and the people they were looking forward to seeing again once this was all over.

Rodney's answer surprised him the most. "Kors, definitely."

They all looked at him, and it took a moment for John to remember who that was. "You'll miss your cat more than any of the people in your life?"

"He's the one I see every day," Rodney said, tilting his chin up defensively.

John shrugged. "I've never owned a pet, so I don't know what it's like."

"He's always happy to see me, unlike most of the people I've known."

John squeezed Rodney's leg. "For me, it will be my friends, Teyla and Ronon. I miss them."

Evan missed his family, mostly. "They're a pain in the ass, but they're family," he said with a shrug.

Vala smiled. "I'll be looking forward to seeing if any of my lovers missed me."

"Of course they missed you," Evan said, leaning forward to pull her into a dirty kiss.

John rolled his eyes. "What about you, Radek?"

"I have been away from family for long time, so I always miss them. Friends I still talk to, but it will be nice to be home again. No?"

"How long has it been since you were home?"

"Since I was home?" Radek thought for a moment. "Two years? Maybe less, maybe more. This is my last shot to make it here."

"What will you do if you win?"

"I do not know," Radek said with a small sad smile. "I have not allowed myself to think beyond each day. I do not wish to count chickens before it is time."

Nodding, John smiled. "I can understand that. One day at a time. That's really all you can plan for."

"I'd start my own business, my own line," Rodney said, a little dreamily. "Prove to everyone that I'm not as bad as they thought I was."

"Who said you were a bad designer?" John felt indignant on Rodney's behalf. "You're a fantastic designer. Everyone here is, otherwise we wouldn't have made it this far."

Rodney shrugged. "They don't think I have it in me to make it."

"Who?"

"The people I was at school with, the ones I work with." Rodney shrugged. "Most everyone, actually."

Radek shook his head. "Then they did not bother to look past prickly exterior."

Rodney shrugged again. "This is my last hurrah."

"You'll go far beyond here." Evan shrugged. "I think we all will. The winners of this show have all done pretty well for themselves. I checked before I decided to apply. The top five or six of the last couple of seasons all got picked up by major brands as house designers. It might not be your own branded line yet, but it's a hell of a lot better than nothing."

"I guess," Rodney said with a shrug.

"I'll take working under someone like Michael Kors for a few years. That would be an amazing experience, to really learn the business and get your name out there."

Rodney started laughing. "You'll work under just about anyone, I think."

Evan wiggled his eyebrows in Rodney's direction. "You offering?"

"No. I have no intention of getting whatever diseases you're carrying."

Evan laughed. "You're just worried you can't handle me."

"I can handle you just fine. It's the STD's I don't want."

Evan waved a hand, brushing away the insult. "Whatever."

"What time do we have to start tomorrow?" Rodney asked, glancing around the room. "Anyone know?"

It was Vala who answered. "Stevie said they'd be coming for us around 8am."

"Stevie? Who's Stevie?" Rodney asked.

"My current associate producer."

Rodney rolled his eyes and snorted.

She shrugged. "You asked."

"I thought it was me all the way?" Evan asked with a smirk.

"Honey, you couldn't handle me if you didn't have help." She smirked right back at him.

"But it sure is a lot of fun," Evan countered, getting a groan from Rodney.

Radek threw a pillow at them.

"I'm going to go watch some television in the bedroom," Rodney said, rising to his feet. "Have a good night everyone."

"I'll join you. If we do have to be out the door at eight, that means it's going to be an early morning for me."

"Well, you're the insane one who insists on running," Rodney said, throwing he words over his shoulder.

John waved to everyone else, getting a chorus of goodnights as he wandered in behind Rodney. "Hey, I've got to keep my girlish figure somehow."

"What girlish figure? You have no hips."

"Hey." John fought a grin as he tried to look insulted and lost the battle.

"It's true! You're straight down. No hips. Boney, but no hips to speak of." Rodney moved into the bathroom.

"I think I should be insulted."

"It's how you are. No insult intended."

"I'm not that straight. I have some muscle on me. I'm just lean."

"Being straight—in terms of body, not sexual orientation—is different than lean muscle," Rodney said. John heard the sound of running water a moment later.

John shook his head. He knew there was no arguing with Rodney. The toilet flushed a moment later and then the faucet went on.

John got changed, pulling on his sweats and a tee-shirt before collapsing onto the bed and scooting all the way over. While they had all slept in this morning, he was still tired from the competition. It was a hard pace the producers set.

Rodney wandered out a little while later in boxers and a tee, grabbing the remote as he passed the TV set. "What do you want to watch?"

"Whatever you're in the mood for. I'm not picky."

"'Kay," he said, sliding into the bed. John could smell mint and Rodney.

It was definitely something he was fast becoming addicted to. And given he didn't know what was going to happen when then was all over... John mentally shook himself. He'd deal with that when it happened.

"Bathroom's yours," Rodney said, flicking on the television. He started surfing as soon as the picture was up on the screen.

"I'll go brush my teeth in a minute. I'm comfy."

"Sure. I'm just saying it's open. You might want to grab it before someone else wanders in. I'm guessing we'll only have Radek in here tonight."

"Probably. I seriously doubt Vala and Evan will pass up a room to themselves."

"Yeah, no," Rodney said with a chuckle. He surfed for a few more minutes. "There's nothing on."

"What about HGTV? They usually have something decent."

"I'm not watching those men prance."

John chuckled. "Food Network, then?"

"That's just as bad," Rodney said with a sigh, but switched over. He dropped the remote on the blankets covering them and then rolled toward John.

Pulling Rodney into his arms, John sighed as he got comfortable. "This is nice."

"Yeah," he said with a soft sigh.

"Just one more, and then we'll be in the finals. That's huge."

"One of us will be in the finals."

"Hopefully both of us will be."

"Maybe. I don't know if I can take that pressure again."

"You've made it this far. You can't give up now."

Rodney sighed, relaxing into John.

Comfortable and warm, John let himself drift off.

The next thing he knew the alarm was blaring next to him and the sun was out.

"Holy shit!" John jumped up, startled. He never slept in to the alarm. He was always up with the sun.

He glanced over at the clock, the numbers glaring at him. 07:03 am.

"Fuck." He had missed his run, and it was going to throw him off all day. Moaning to himself, he climbed out of bed without disturbing Rodney too much and made his way to the shower.

He was about halfway done with his shower when the door opened.

"Hello?"

"Gotta piss. You left the bed and I got cold."

"Sorry. I woke up late and missed my jog. So I'm not starting my day off well."

"It's fine. I just didn't want to go in the other bedroom. God only knows what's going on in there."

"Yeah, I don't blame you. Go right ahead. I'll be done in here in like ten minutes."

"Didn't think you'd mind."

John hummed.

The faucet turned on a few seconds after the toilet flushed and then Rodney was out the door, letting a big draft of cold air into the bathroom before he managed to close the door behind him.

Shaking his head, John hurried up and finished his shower and what he needed to do in the bathroom before making his way out to the main living area. "Morning everyone."

Rodney was mainlining coffee as he stood there in his boxers. Radek was dressed and ready to go. Vala and Evan were MIA. "Oh good, you're done," Rodney said, downing the last of his coffee. "I need to get in there."

Before John could say anything else, Rodney was gone. Shaking his head, John went for the coffee himself. "You're up early this morning, Radek."

"I am on time," he said. "I am surprised you were not up earlier."

"Me, too. I'm always up with the sun." John drank half his cup in one long gulp.

"You looked comfortable. No? Also, I do not believe you would have woken up even if train had rumbled through room last night."

John shrugged. "I was comfortable, but that's never stopped me before. I have a very good internal alarm clock."

"Today, it seems battery was dead."

"Maybe. It's been a long few weeks."

"Yes, it has," Radek said with a nod, sipping at his coffee.

John sighed. "It's almost over, though. I'm happy about that, since this has been really intense, but... it's going to be sad, too, when we all go our separate ways again."

"We will still have much work to do for next three months if we make it to top four."

"Yeah. Designing a full collection to show at freaking Bryant Park. That would just be... wow. I can't think about it yet. Not until I know for sure I'm in the finals."

"We will know more in a day or two."

"Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Yes," Radek nodded. "It does not seem real."

John sighed. "When are they coming for us?"

Rodney squinted his eyes at the clock. "We have twenty minutes before we need to head down."

"Joy." John refilled his coffee, then plopped down on the couch. He was amazed at how wiped out he was feeling, still. John sat trying to get his brain in gear for the next fifteen minutes—or until Vala and Evan stumbled out of the other bedroom.

He raised an eyebrow. "You two don't look like you slept much last night."

"Who needs sleep?" Evan asked with a smirk on his face. John swore he could see a hickey on his neck, but the man turned away too quickly for him to verify it.

Shaking his head, John wondered if the sex was really worth it. Neither of them was going to be in top shape for what was probably the single most important week in the competition.

Rodney wandered out of their bedroom a few moments later, his hair still wet, the ends curling over his collar. He moved to the kitchen and dumped his mug in the dishwasher before heading to the door. "Are you all staying or going?"

John smiled and pushed up off the couch. "Going. Let's do this."

They all piled into a larger SUV than they'd been in before, heading to Parsons for their last challenge before four of them were sent home to work on their final collection.

They all filed into the seats at the Runway, waiting for Heidi to come give them a hint as to what the next and last obstacle to the finals was going to be.

It was weird to be there with only four other people. So many designers—good and bad—had come and gone. John was still mulling that thought over in his head when Heidi walked out decked in what looked like a Greek goddess gown.

"Welcome designers." She smiled at them.

"Today you're here for the start of your last challenge. There have been many different cultures in the world, many different looks, and today you'll get to explore them all."

She looked at each of them. "You'll be going on a little field trip to meet with Tim, and get more details on your challenge this week."

She wished them luck and then they were on their way, back in the SUV with all of their sketchbooks and bags. They headed uptown, circling around Central Park.

John sucked in a breath when they parked outside the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The MET. Wow.

"We better not be recreating ancient styles," Rodney muttered.

"Whatever it is, we get to go to the MET." John's eyes were wide, and he didn't care that he looked like a total tourist. This was one of the places on his life to-do list to visit.

"You know, you can come here anytime you want, right?" Rodney glanced at him with a weird expression on his face.

"I live in California. And other than this show, I don't know when I'll get to come to New York again. I've always wanted to spend like a week here."

"You are allowed to take a vacation. You do understand what that is, right?"

John shot him a grin. "I know. But this is my first time. You can only have one first."

Rodney smirked at him. "Not if you do it right."

John had to laugh.

Rodney grinned back at him before moved away, climbing the steps up into the MET. They ended up in one of the larger galleries, statues and paintings all around. Tim was there along with a grey-haired older woman.

"Good morning, designers!" Tim was impeccably dressed as always.

"Welcome to the MET. Isn't it marvelous?" Tim said with a broad grin. "With me today, I have Katherine Langford, one of the women who has contributed many of the artifacts in the Egyptian wing here at the MET through her tireless efforts in the archaeological field."

There was an impressed hum from the designers. They might not like rolling around in the dirt, but they could all appreciate trying not to let art, in whatever form, get forgotten.

"Many people tell me I live in the past," Katherine said, her voice stronger than John thought it would be. "But I continue to tell them that those who do not live in the past can't see the future."

Tim picked up the verbal ball. "That's why, this week, for your last challenge before the finale, we're asking you to get inspired by something here at the MET. You're going to be given one hour to walk around the museum to find your inspirational piece. You can interpret it any way you'd like, but remember, you will be judged partially on how well your design evokes the art you choose."

Katherine continued a few beats later. "But don't forget that this is a new creation and it should be something forward-looking, reaching for what is just beyond our fingertips."

"When your hour is up, we'll be going to Mood where you'll get all the fabric you'll need for your creation. Your budget for this challenge is going to be two hundred dollars. Make the most of it, designers."

Tim clapped his hands and they were off, each designer heading to a different section of the museum—a camera crew in tow behind them.

John wandered into section with a lot of Greek statutes and art. Something about that era captivated him. The draping was amazing and women always looked fabulous in it.

He wandered until he found a statue of a woman that really called to him. Unlike a lot of the pieces that either had no expression, or were violent or sexual, this one seemed... wistful somehow. John didn't know why, but he really liked the piece.

He started to sketch, ignoring the camera hovering around him. By the time the hour had passed, the production assistant telling him it was time to move on, he discovered he had relaxed and felt refreshed in a way.

He met up with the other designers, piling into the car. "So, what did you guys go with?"

He was not surprised to hear Vala ended up in the gothic area where all the iron and metalwork was. Evan had wandered in the Oriental section. Radek had wandered into the Egyptian area, while Rodney had moved to some of the glasswork by Tiffany and Frank Lloyd Wright.

It was going to be very interesting. He didn't envy the judges this week, since it wasn't going to be an easy comparison.

They had an hour to shop in Mood—which was a nice change.

With the larger budget, John was able to go with a variety of rich fabrics in different shades of white and off-white. He was also able to get some very nice embellishments that would fit in with his plan perfectly.

He spotted Rodney fingering some jewel-toned fabrics, some metallic, pewter-like fabric already in his hands.

When Tim gathered them all up to head back to the workroom, John was feeling confident, but not sure. He had a feeling everyone was going to bring their A-game this week, and it was pretty much anyone's guess as to who was going home

They had two days for this challenge—which meant that there was probably a catch somewhere along the way. So John wasn't entirely surprised when Tim walked in just after dinner. "Good evening, designers. How is everyone doing?"

They all looked up, nodding that they were doing okay so far.

"We have a little…twist for you. You are going to design a second piece, as well, for this challenge."

A collective moan went up across the room. John was glad he hadn't been taking his time for this one, just in case something like this happened.

"If you're making a dress, you will have to make a pants or shorts outfit that will compliment your design. If you have pants, you will need to make a dress." Tim waited for everyone to nod. "You will not be allowed to purchase additional material, which means that you have to use what you already have."

Now the moan was louder. "Oh come on!" Evan banged his head against the table. "I didn't buy enough extra for a whole second outfit! I went with quality over quantity!"

"You'll have to make it work," Tim replied. "Oh…and we're going to give you a little help." Tim turned and then all of the contestants—minus the Wraith brothers—filed back into the workroom.

There was a general cry of joy as everyone ran up to give hugs.

"Okay, designers," Tim said, calling everyone to attention again. "Rodney, since you won the last round, you get to pick your helper."

John wasn't really surprised when he picked Laura Cadman as his helper. They had always gotten along, if in a sibling rivalry kind of way.

"Okay," Tim said, pulling a name from the velvet bag he was holding. "Vala."

"Daniel." She gave him a sensual smile.

Tim called John's name next.

He chewed the inside of his lip, considering. "I'll take Elizabeth."

She was a strong seamstress and John knew she would make whatever he wanted. Tim called Radek next.

"I believe I will take Sam."

Sam squealed a little as she headed to Radek, giving him a hug. "And last up, Evan. Who would you like to work with?" Tim asked.

"Hmmm." Evan looked a little desperate. "Jen. I'll take her."

"Okay. Thank you, everyone. Designers, I suggest you get to work!"

It was a rush, and John and Elizabeth immediately put their heads together. "Okay, my original design is a pant suit. Here's a picture of the statue I'm basing it on. The problem with a dress is that I don't want to go with the clichéd Greek toga look."

"Maybe something short, but with lots of draping? How much fabric do you have?"

"I have some extra, but yeah, we're going to have to think short. Maybe a skirt that falls above the knee, with a hint of draping. More a suggestion of it than a real drape. For the top, let's go with a tank style to start, and then use a sleeve similar to what I've got here. I'm doing a sheer fabric on the arms that will just flow off the body."

"I can do that," she said with a nod. "I can start pulling together the extra fabric you have."

"Good. Let's go with that plan then." John had been sketching as they talked, and let her run with it as they split up the fabric and went back to work.

He heard Evan arguing with Jennifer not too much later. Something about it was his design and his neck on the line. That never boded well.

John shook his head and tried to tune out everything but what he needed to focus on.

They worked continuously until midnight. All of the models had been in at one point or another for their first fittings, giving all the designers a chance to modify their garments given the limited fabric they all had.

When the producers shuffled them all out, John was exhausted. It was going to be tight, to get both items finished on time.

At least they had some help. That was something, at least. Better than nothing—or a sharp stick in the eye. It didn't help with the sheer exhaustion, though. That bone-weary tiredness from this morning hit with a vengeance as he climbed into the car, sliding next to Rodney.

"Hey. How are your garments going?"

Rodney let out a long sigh, leaning into John. "I don't know. Even with an extra set of hands, I don't know if I'm going to get it all finished."

"Yeah. They're really pushing us again."

"Yeah," Rodney said with a tired nod. "I'm just glad I got Laura. I don't know if I would have made it if I'd been stuck with anyone else. I may have already attempted to spork my eyes out."

John gave a tired chuckle. "Elizabeth is helping out big time. She's a sewing powerhouse."

Rodney made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat, rubbing a hand over his face. "I guess. I'm just glad I don't have someone arguing with me about my design."

"Yeah. Evan has spent more time yelling than sewing today, I think."

"And after marathon sex, that's never good. If he doesn't add fabric to his dress, I might need to avert my eyes during the runway show. There are just some things I should not have to see."

John laughed again softly.

They settled into a comfortable silence for the rest of the ride home. John managed to get himself back into the apartment, catching just enough of a second wind to make it through his nightly routine before dropping into bed next to Rodney who was already snoring gently.

Morning came way too fast. They all stumbled into the workroom after detouring to the coffee and pastries the producers had put out at Parsons. It was going to be a very busy day.

People were frantic. Running here, running there. Cursing and yelling and complaining about every little thing. At one point Rodney had cut loose on Jennifer who had been sniveling since they're arrived. John had silently cheered.

Finally, Tim was there telling them they had to get their models to the runway. John and Elizabeth rushed to get the last few stitches done, and then they had to file downstairs.

Rodney was the last one through the doors and onto the runway show floor, looking as exhausted and panicked as they all felt. Heidi stepped out on stage a few moments after Rodney was settled in his chair.

"Hello, designers. Today we asked you to produce not one, but two looks, based on your experience at the MET. When this is over, four of you will be moving on to the finals, creating a ten piece look that might—might—be featured at Fashion Week in Bryant Park. But that also means that one of you will be out."

John took a deep breath. This was it.

"Let's start the show."

Because they all had very different inspirations, this show was the most diverse yet. At the end, John had to admit, he really had no idea where he stood.

Vala's pieces were so dark and foreboding, in a way. They gave off such a strong and deadly feeling with a touch of the feminine. Evan's pieces reminded John immediately of geisha girls—for good or bad.

Radek's was probably the strangest. It evoked the Egyptian area he was inspired by, but hinted at something much more, something very alien.

And Rodney's…Rodney's garments were amazing. They were all structure and form—like stained glass or a beautifully built house. They looked solid, but were beautiful at the same time.

His own pieces hinted at the draping of the customary Greek wardrobe from the ancient time period, but he had tried to soften it and make them really complement and hug the female form.

Heidi glanced up from her note cards once the five of them were up on stage. Their models wandered out a few moments later, standing on either side of them.

"Well, designers, this is it. Four of you will have the chance to design collections, and compete for one of the three spots to show them at Bryant Park. And one of you will be out."

"Evan, we'll start with you," Heidi said, her eyes fixed on him. "Tell us about your design."

"Well, I took my inspiration from the Asian art in the museum, particularly a painting that depicted the old geishas. I wanted to really evoke that feeling and time period."

"Well, you certainly did that," Michael Kors said. "And not in a good way."

Evan's face fell.

"I was almost afraid to look just in case I saw something I shouldn't," Michael said.

Evan nodded. "I went for quality fabrics instead of quantity with my budget, so the second look really stretched what I had to the limits."

"The fabric looks amazing," Heidi said with a smile. "And you can see the quality of your design in the garment. It's just…a little too little…in terms of the garment sizing."

Evan sighed, but nodded. "It's not my original plan, unfortunately."

"John," Heidi said, moving on. "Tell us about your looks."

He took a deep breath. "Well, I was inspired by one particular Greek statue that had this sort of wistful look on her face. I wanted to capture the feeling of the era, as well as put some of that fleeting emotion into the movement of the garments."

"The garments move well," Michael said with a nod. "And it seemed like your models were comfortable in them, but some of your seams are not as…neat as they should be."

John nodded. "I had a lot of help from Elizabeth on the sewing, but even with that, we were starting to run short on time. I made the decision to rush some of the final seaming rather than have a half-finished piece."

"I really love the short dress," Heidi said. "I could picture myself wearing it."

John smiled. "Thank you."

"Radek, what inspired you? Well, that much is obvious," Heidi said with a smile.

Radek nodded. "Yes, Egypt and its culture, but there was one piece of art that hinted the pyramids were not... human made. This intrigued me greatly, so it was what I choose to base my design on."

"It's very…otherworldly," Michael said, "and a little unsettling, honestly."

Radek smiled widely. "Then I have achieved my aim. I wanted to make something that would provoke thought."

The judges chuckled, Heidi picking up a moment later. "One thing about your design is that I think you may have played it too safe. The general design is what we've seen from you before."

Radek shrugged. "I did not set out to reinvent the dress. I wished to spend my time on the feeling of the design, and the construction of it."

"Rodney," Heidi said, turning to the Canadian. "Tell us about your design."

"Well, I was intrigued by the design and structure I saw in the Tiffany glass and the pieces by Frank Lloyd Wright. I really wanted to make something that reflected that structure and emotion."

Michael nodded. "I like what you did with piecing together the different fabrics."

"Thank you. I was trying to show that kind of structure in the garment."

"You did an excellent job, although I would have loved to see that same level of detail in your second piece as well."

"I only have so many hands and hours in the day."

Heidi nodded, then moved on. "Vala, please tell us about your design."

"I was drawn to the Gothic section of the MET with all of the metalwork and iron artifacts. I wanted something that was dark and strong."

Heidi gave a small smile. "That is very evident."

"Women today need to be strong, even stronger than men. I wanted to show that in my clothes."

"It's certainly... strong." Michael looked closer at the garments. "I worry, though, that you're pushing the edges of cliché here."

Vala shrugged. "I know a lot of people who would break down the door to wear these clothes."

Michael Kors snorted softly, and John wondered if she had just made a fatal mistake with the cocky response.

"Thank you, designers. You may leave the runway. We'll call you back when we're finished our discussion," Heidi said with a smile.

They filed off, and John dropped down into the couch as soon as they were backstage. "That was insane."

"They didn't like anything we did," Rodney whined.

"It's the final contest. They have to pick us apart."

"I guess," Rodney said with a sigh. He continued a few minutes later. "We have to pack tomorrow, whatever the outcome."

"Yeah. Whoever moves on will have a couple of months to produce their collections at home."

"It should be…interesting," Radek said with a quiet sigh. "Right now, though, I am looking forward to sleeping for week."

"Oh yeah." John rubbed at his face. "Sleep seems like something I haven't gotten enough of in forever."

"I'm looking forward to seeing my cat," Rodney said.

"After I catch up on sleep, it will be nice to see all the people I haven't talked to in a while, catch up with them."

Radek nodded. "And to go to favorite restaurants again."

John went over to the snack table and poured them all champagne, handing it around. "No matter what happens, guys, cheers to a great competition."

"Cheers," echoed everyone as they took a sip—some bigger than others. Rodney knocked his back in one go.

Not wanting a repeat of the hangovers, he didn't pour anymore, but sat back down to wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

They all fell into silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they turned everything over in their minds.

It actually took the judges two hours to make a decision.

Standing there in front of the judges was nerve wracking, especially when they just looked at them for a long moment before Heidi spoke up. "Designers, you've been through a lot this season. Highs and lows, good and bad. But this is the end of the line for one of you tonight."

She looked up and down the line. "This was not an easy decision. You've all had high and low points this season, and there was both good and bad in every design this week."

She glanced down at her cards, licking her lips. She looked up again a few moments later, her eyes scanning the five of them. "Rodney, you are in. You may leave the runway."

John saw the relief almost hit Rodney over the head. They shared a quick smile before Rodney headed backstage again.

"John," Heidi said, turning to him. "You are in. You may leave the runway."

"Thank you." John's breath left him in one rush. Wow. He had done it. He had made it to the finals. He walked backstage in a daze.

Rodney was standing just inside the door, his eyes widening as Johns stepped in. "You made it?"

"Yeah, I did. We're in the finals."

John got only a moment's notice before Rodney stepped into his personal space and their lips were meeting.

He returned the kiss eagerly, putting all of his passion and excitement into it.

Rodney backed him up a few steps, his hands roving John's body before they hit the wall, dislodging themselves momentarily.

Gasping for breath, John only had time to say "Rodney..." before the other man was diving back in.

"Is this how you celebrate?"

"You kissed me." John was panting hard for breath.

"Actually," Radek said, behind him. "I did not. I can if you wish."

They both turned to look. "Radek. You're in?"

He nodded, smiling broadly and bouncing on his toes. "I am in."

John grinned, and let out a whoop. He would have hugged Radek too, but Rodney didn't seem to keen on letting him go at the moment. Not that John was complaining. "Congratulations!"

"It is down to Vala and Evan. It should be…interesting to see winner of two."

"Evan is a stronger designer overall, but he dropped the ball a bit on this one. It's going to come down to whether they base it on the overall competition, or just this week."

Rodney shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I can beat both of them."

John grinned. That was the spirit he had gotten used to from Rodney.

Rodney returned the grin, tightening his arms around John's waist. It looked like he was lining up for another kiss when Evan walked in the door, relief on his face.

"You're in?"

Evan nodded, running a hand through his hair. "By the skin of my teeth. I almost screwed up this whole competition."

John looked around. "We made it guys. We're the final four."

"And only three of us will show at Bryant Park," Radek said, his gaze hard. "We have three months of hard work now."

John nodded. "I guess Tim will be giving us final instructions soon."

"Probably," Evan replied, just as Vala walked in, holding her head high.

"So guys…it's all up to you now," she said.

John disengaged from Rodney for a moment to give her a hug. "You put up a good fight."

"Not good enough," she said, her voice a little thick. When she pulled away, however, her eyes were dry. "So…you have a lot of work to do yet."

Evan, Radek, and even Rodney came over to hug her goodbye. "Only three of us will actually make the last show, so yeah, it's going to be a long next couple of months."

"You'll all do really well. I can't wait to see the garments you're going to make. It'll be a wild show no matter what."

Tim walked in. "Well, Vala, you put on a great show, and you should be proud of what you've done. Unfortunately, I have to take you now to clean up your workspace."

"I know," she said with a sad smile.

"Gentlemen, I'll be back shortly."

Vala gave them a half-hearted wave over her shoulder as she left, the door closing behind her. Rodney sank into the couch, letting his head loll back against the cushion. "We're done. I can't believe we're done."

"Not really done yet." John sat down beside him, Radek and Evan both falling into chairs nearby too. Now we have to create a collection."

"That's easy," Rodney said offhandedly. "I've been dreaming about what I'd show at Bryant Park for years."

John had to smile. "Yeah, but now comes the hard part of turning dreams into something a model can wear."

"That's easy. You just have to make sure you pick the right models."

John sighed. "That's right, once we design the collection, we'll be casting models and stuff when we come back." He made a face. "And knowing this show, there will be some sort of twist when we get here. I think I'll plan to have sketches of a few additional pieces I could create, just in case."

"Of course," Radek said with a smile. "We all know they love twists and turns."

"And it wouldn't be Project Runway if they didn't have us scrambling and stressed out right before the big show."

They all chuckled humorlessly, ending up shooting the breeze for nearly an hour before Tim finally returned for them. "Congratulations, designers. I'm so proud of each and every one of you for making it this far. But, as you know, you have to pack up our workstations because you're heading home. There will be a production assistant assigned to each of you to go over your departure schedule and to make any needed changes to your flights."

They all nodded, so Tim continued. "They will also have your budget for your final collection. You'll each be given a Project Runway Visa Card with $3,000 on it to produce a collection of ten pieces each. You'll have three months to work on it, before you'll come back to New York to show it to the judges. From there, three will be chosen for Bryant Park."

Rodney shifted on the couch. "If we wanted to stay in New York longer now, can we?"

"If you've got a place to live here, then yes. We won't be offering lodging or expenses for the next few months beyond the budget for your collection."

"I understand," Rodney said with a nod. "I wanted to go back to the MET for some inspiration. I'll arrange everything with the production assistant."

"Perfect." Tim smiled at him. "It's been a wild ride, designers, and you still have one more leg to go. But I have faith in all of you. Remember—use your editing eye, and make it work."

They headed up to the workroom a few moments later, excited, subdued, and exhausted all in equal measure.

As he packed up his space, John realized that while it was exciting to be going home to see his friends and family, he really was going to miss this place, too. And Rodney...

It was weird, actually. Rodney kept giving him these strange, long looks as they cleaned up, sorting through everything in the workroom and at their stations.

When he had all his stuff together, as they waited for the production assistants to arrive, he went and sat on Rodney's worktable. "So."

"So," he said, seemingly a little nervous. "Ready to head back to California?"

"Yes and no."

"I'm going to stay here for another week or two before I go home," Rodney said, packing away some of his scissors, not looking at John. "I have to get my flight changed and find somewhere to crash."

John waited until he was close enough, and then grabbed him, pulling the other man into his arms and wrapping his legs around Rodney's waist so he couldn't walk away.

"Hey!" he complained, trying to shift away—albeit a little half-heartedly.

John put a hand under his chin and tilted Rodney's face up for a brief, but intense, kiss. "Just because I won't see you for a few months, doesn't mean I'm letting you go again."

"You can stay."

"Where would we live?"

"We can get a hotel for a week, then go home."

"Okay."

Rodney shifted back a little, his expression showing his surprise. "Okay? Just like that?"

"Sure, why does it have to be hard?"

"It just usually is," Rodney said with a shrug.

"Not with me, it isn't."

"I'm noticing that," Rodney said with a small smile, his eyes shifting to something behind John.

John glanced behind him to see what had drawn Rodney's attention.

Four production assistants had wandered into the room, folders stuffed with paperwork in their hands. Two of them were already headed toward them.

John smiled at Rodney. "I'll let you negotiate, and then just tell them ditto."

"There's no negotiation," Rodney said. "I tell them what I want and they do it. It's very simple."

Laughing softly, John smiled at the two who came over.

"Do you mind," Rodney said quietly, shifting within the confines of John's limbs.

"Oh, sure." John let his legs fall back.

"Thanks," Rodney said with a smile, moving away, but still staying close. He waiting until the woman was about five feet away before he started. "We need to change my flight."

John had to laugh again. He smiled at the assistant who had put her stuff next to him. "I'm going to stay in the city for another week and split the hotel costs with Rodney. We both want to do a bit more exploring for inspiration before we go home. Can I get my flight changed?"

"Another week?" the second woman said.

"Yes, please."

"I'll have to look and see if we can do that."

"If you could do that now, I'd appreciate it."

"I won't be able to do that until tomorrow sometime."

He shrugged. "Then I can wait."

"Are you sure you want to stay?" she asked again.

"Yes." John smiled. "We both want to spend a few more days at the MET walking around. There was a lot there to draw inspiration from, and we didn't have nearly enough time."

"We?"

"I'm going to share the cost of a hotel room with Rodney."

She glanced over to where Rodney was arguing with the other production assistant. "With Rodney."

John nodded. "Yes. With Rodney."

She shifted on her feet and then opened the folder next to John, paging through the papers. "I don't have any information about hotels."

"That's okay. There are like a million hotels in the city. We'll find one close to the museum. If you get the time to look any up between now and tomorrow when you'll have my new flight information, that would be awesome, but if you don't, we can track something down."

She nodded, pulling out several sheets. "Okay. I need you to read through these pages and initial where is says you have to initial. It's for your travel arrangements and also waivers for Tim's visit in about two months."

John took them. "I'm not going to sign off on the travel until we have everything squared away, but everything else I can do now."

"Oh." She looked up at him, a little confused—and dense. "But that's what they told me I needed you to do now."

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, but I need to have my travel information changed. So I can't sign off on it today, because then I would be approving incorrect information."

"But…oh. I guess."

John smiled. "Everything else I can get initialed now, and we can take care of those last few bits in the morning when you come by with the new travel documents."

She handed John a pen. "I'll be back in a little while to get these from you."

He nodded, already starting to read through everything.

Rodney was muttering to himself under his breath and he scratched out entire sections of his paperwork.

It took them about an hour to get through all the paperwork, with more nondisclosure agreements, promising not to use the budget money for anything else, waivers for Tim's visit and filming... all kinds of stuff.

Rodney's assistant came back first, looking with dismay at the mess Rodney had made of his papers.

John didn't get much time to hear that argument, as his own assistant wandered back in. "Here's everything I could sign now."

"But you were supposed to sign everything."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We talked about that, remember? I can't sign the travel stuff, because I need it changed."

"Oh." Several seconds passed before she continued. "But I can't do that."

"We just had this conversation."

"But I can't change your flight. I'm not in travel."

"Can you get me someone from travel to talk to, then?"

"No. They're not in the office until tomorrow."

"Well, then, I'll wait until tomorrow, and we can get this all squared away then."

"But I need everything signed off on tonight."

"I can't sign off on the wrong travel plans."

"But you have to."

"What part of 'I changed my mind about when I'm leaving' do you not understand?" Rodney asked, his voice loud and exasperated. "No, I'm not signing this until it's right."

John glanced over. "Yeah, I'm having the same issue. Look, we would just like to stay in the city for an extra week. We're not asking you guys to pick up the costs, we just want to change our plane tickets."

"Get it right and then I'll sign it," Rodney said, throwing papers back at the woman helping him.

John glanced back at the assistant helping him. "See, it could be worse. I'm at least being polite about it."

"But, they wanted everything finalized tonight," she said.

"We can't finalize it until we get a few things changed." John hopped down from the table.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the apartment. I need to start getting packed."

"I'm leaving, too," Rodney said, moving to follow John. "It's nearly midnight and I’m not arguing with you about this now. Bring the right paperwork in the morning and I'll sign it."

"Exactly." John smiled at them as he gathered his stuff from the workroom to take back to the apartment.

The two women followed them to the elevator, at a loss as to what to do. They had the paperwork in their hands, kind of waving it at them. Rodney simply ignored them.

John smiled again. "See you tomorrow morning. Have a nice night."

"But you need to sign these," his girl said, waving the papers as the doors closed between them. Rodney was slumped against the wall, his bags hanging from his shoulders.

"Okay, where did they find these people?"

"I don't know, but they're stupider than I even thought possible. How hard is it to change a flight?"

"And how hard is it to understand that we can't sign paperwork that we agree to the travel until we get it changed?"

"Because they're morons."

"Apparently." John was suddenly exhausted and just wanted to go to bed.

"I hope the car waited for us," Rodney said as the elevator doors opened in the lobby.

"They kind of have to wait for us."

"You would think so," Rodney said with a sigh, pushing himself off the wall. "But then, I also assumed they wouldn't have stupid people making travel arrangements for us."

"Well, to be fair, those two weren't making the arrangements. They're just the ones bringing them to us."

"Same difference. They should have had at least one brain cell."

"That's asking a lot of a production assistant, apparently."

Rodney sighed. "Apparently." He shoved open the door, holding it just long enough for John to catch it. Thankfully there was one SUV waiting at the curb.

They quickly got their stuff stowed in the back and climbed in.

It didn't take long to get back to the apartment at this time of night and less than twenty minutes later they were stumbling into the apartment, dumping their crap in the living room and dropping into bed. Tomorrow was another day.

***

When Rodney woke the next morning, he thought he had to be dreaming.

He was spooned in bed with John—who was horribly, enormously hot—and he was one of the final four in Project Runway. And he was going to spend the next week in New York City with John. Alone. No cameras, no other people. Just them.

Next to him, John snuffled a little and buried his nose deeper against Rodney's neck, not waking up yet.

It was nice. Really nice.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He never thought he'd get this far. He'd wanted it, but he was also painfully aware of the fact that what you wanted wasn't necessarily what you got.

In the other room, he could hear signs that Radek and Evan were already up and moving around, doing their final packing.

He knew he needed to do the same, but he was warm and comfortable. And it just felt too damn good to pass up.

John snuffled into his neck again.

Rodney could feel John's morning wood against his ass and he wiggled back against him. He wanted it, wanted to feel John inside of him, but he also wanted to wait. Wanted it to be good. And he didn't want an audience.

"Mmmmmmmm....?"

"Hey," he said quietly.

"Mmm." He could feel John's smile against his skin. "Morning."

"You sleep?"

"Mmm hmm. You?"

"Not long enough, but we need to pack."

"Yeah."

Rodney shifted on the bed, rubbing against John. "You up and ready to move?"

"Not really. Comfy."

"Radek and Evan are packing."

"So?"

"Aren't we going to say goodbye to them?"

John's sigh was warm across Rodney's skin. "We probably should."

"We have a week. We can lounge around tomorrow morning."

"I guess." John nuzzled one more time before sitting up.

Rodney rolled onto his back as John shifted on the bed. He smiled up at him, still surprised they were here like this. "We have to find a hotel and pack and whatnot."

"Yeah. The Blonde Bimbo chick may or may not have some suggestions for us of places near the MET. I'm not holding my breath."

"I highly doubt it."

"Yeah. So we'll call a few places before we head out and see what we can find."

"Maybe Evan can help. Didn't he have a place for you and him…"

"True. I had almost forgotten about that."

"Are you okay asking him about it?"

"Ah..." John paused. "Actually, yeah. He won't care."

"You sure? I don't want to cause any more issues and whatnot."

"This is Evan we're talking about."

Rodney made a face. "Still."

"I know."

Rodney was quiet for a few minutes, watching as John puttered around the room. "Are we doing this?"

John glanced up. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No," Rodney said, shaking his head, plucking at the blankets tugged over his body. "It's just…almost unreal, I guess."

John smiled. "We'll just take it a day at a time."

Rodney smiled wryly. "As if we have any other choice."

"We could spend our time worrying about what may or may not happen tomorrow and so we forget to enjoy right now. I'd rather enjoy it, and not worry, myself."

"You're from California. You're not built to worry." Rodney shifted on the bed, rolling up so he was sitting up. He rubbed a hand over his face.

John chuckled again and stuffed the last of his things in his bag. "Let's go say goodbye and see if the travel people have got everything worked out."

"I'm going to jump in the shower before I pack," he said, climbing to his feet. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Okay." John grabbed his stuff and headed out to the main living area. It was weird this was the last time they'd see this place.

Rodney moved quickly through his morning routine, pulling on jeans and a comfortable shirt. He shoved most of his clothes into his suitcase before heading into the main living room where John was sprawled on the couch chatting with Evan and Radek.

John's face was soft as soon as he saw Rodney. "All packed?"

"Some. Mostly," he said, heading into the kitchen to grab some coffee. "Is there any food left in here?"

"Not much." Evan shrugged. "They didn't restock it."

Rodney snorted, opening up the fridge. "Course not. Why would they feed us one last meal?"

"Because they do not wish to spend the money." Radek blinked at him.

"You guys all ready to go?" Rodney asked, opening up more cabinets to see what was left. He found a half-bag of Doritos and an empty bag of corn chips on one shelf.

"Pretty much." Evan looked relaxed. "We're just waiting for the production team to come get us and take us where we need to go. It's going to be weird going home."

Rodney took the Doritos bag and dug in, munching on the stale chips. "I know. I still have to get all my travel plans switched around."

"Me, too. I'm going to be pissed if they still haven't gotten that sorted out this morning." John made a face.

"I'm not optimistic," he said, leaning against the cabinet. He washed down the chips with his coffee. "They were entirely unhelpful last night."

"What are you guys changing it to?" Evan looked between them.

"I want to stay another week, spend some time in the city and at the MET," Rodney said. "I think my collection is going to be based on some of the stuff I saw in there."

John nodded. "I'm going to stay with him, and we're going to split the cost of a hotel room. I don't know that I want to base my collection off the MET, but I've always wanted to visit and spend time there, so I figure I'll take the opportunity now while I have it."

Evan's eyebrow went up in a knowing look. "Uh huh."

"Speaking of which, you or your sister can't suggest a place with not too expensive rooms somewhere near the museum, can you?"

"I can ask her."

John flashed him a smile. "That would be awesome, thanks. Will save us just wandering around aimlessly with our stuff trying to find somewhere."

"I'm not leaving here until we have somewhere to go," Rodney said.

"We'll figure it out."

"We better."

"What about you guys?" John looked at Evan and Radek. "Where are you headed now?"

"Airport," Evan answered. "I can't wait to get home, honestly."

"I am, but I want to take some time to see the city before I head home and get to work."

"There is much to plan," Radek said. "No time for vacationing."

John shrugged. "I want to go into this with a clear head, and I need a few days to recover from the pace the show set."

"Each is different."

"Yeah. It's going to be cool when we get back together to see what everyone came up with."

Rodney finished off the chips, throwing the bag in the garbage. "We'll need to stop for breakfast or brunch or lunch or something. The chips aren't going to hold me long."

"I'd love to find a hotel to drop our stuff off at, and then go get bagels at a local place."

"Or something filling," Rodney said, pointing toward the room. "I'm going to finish packing. When are the morons from travel coming?"

Radek chuckled. "They should be here within the half hour, I believe."

"Good, good. John, you can argue with them. I refuse to deal with their stupidity any longer."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome," Rodney said, wandering back into the bedroom. He packed and listened to the rise and fall of conversation in the other room.

After a while, John poked his head in. "The guys are here. You about ready?"

"For what?"

"To leave. The travel people are here and have our updated agendas. Mine looked alright now so I signed off on it, but you'll need to sign yours, too."

"You mean they were able to actually change flight times and dates?" Rodney zipped up his bag, tugging it off the bed and onto the floor.

"Yeah. The clueless assistants handed over the stuff last night apparently, and the people who actually know what they're doing took over. Mine all looked right, I'm now flying out a week from today."

"Okay. I'm done with my packing, but I still think you have stuff in the drawer and whatnot." He waved his hand, gesturing toward the bathroom. Rodney moved to the door. "I'll go and see what the morons put together for me."

John nodded, moving to do a last run through of the room.

There was a girl waiting for him in the living room with folder. She looked barely legal. "Did you get it right this time?"

She didn't even blink. "You asked to go out a week from today, with a flight leaving about the same time, correct. That's what I've arranged for. Since Mr. Sheppard mentioned you were staying in town to spend more time at the MET, and you wanted to share a room to cut down on the costs, I've taken the liberty of booking you a room at the hotel in the paperwork. I've also arranged for a car to pick you both up and take you to the airport at the appropriate time. If you decide to change hotels, please let me know so I'll be able to arrange for the car service."

Rodney blinked at her a few times before he took the paperwork from her. "Huh. You do have a brain."

This time there was a bare hint of a smile. "That was one of my job requirements, yes."

Rodney snorted, glancing up at her. "Well, up until this point I couldn't tell."

She shrugged. "The assistants are sometimes... fresh. They'll learn, or they'll leave."

"Don't you mean stupid?"

"I can't say that out loud." She winked at him.

That made him laugh as he walked over to the couch, sitting down. He leaned over, paging through the documents. Everything looked good. It was shocking actually. He held out his hand a few minutes later. "Pen."

She handed one over. It was even one of those nice roller ball varieties.

He snorted again and then went through the papers, signing or initialing everywhere it had been highlighted. He checked to make sure everything was good before handing it all back to her. "There you go."

"Perfect." She pulled out another sheet and handed it over. "That's a summary of all your information. Since we had to change the ticket, you'll need to log in and print out a boarding pass yourself, but you can do that either at the hotel or at the airport. All the information, confirmation numbers, etc., are all on there. My phone number and extension is also listed at the bottom of the page—if there are any problems or any of your plans change, just leave a message for me with the details and I'll get it taken care of."

"They can't be paying your enough."

She smiled. "I like my job, believe it or not. It's challenging, but never boring."

"But how can you stand working with idiots?" Rodney asked, rising to his feet. He spotted John heading into the living room, dragging his bag behind him.

"I don't deal with the assistants directly all that often. And usually they're a little... swifter than this current bunch. I'm not sure where they found these. Most of the time, the people we get in are using it as a stepping stone into a career in broadcasting, so they're fairly intelligent."

Rodney snorted. "As if the talking heads on television actually have a brain." He looked at John. "You ready?"

"Whenever you are." John smiled. "I think we have a car taking us to the hotel, right?"

"That's what she says."

"Isn't that a dirty joke going around?"

Rodney blinked at John. "What?"

John shook his head and laughed. "Never mind."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Radek and Evan left?"

The girl who had been helping him shook her head. "You'll all be sharing a car, it will stop by the hotel to drop you two off, then take them on to the airport."

"So where are they?"

"Waiting downstairs. They wanted to get their luggage stowed, so yours will be easier to get out."

"Oh. I should get my stuff."

She nodded. "Yes. We need to get going. The cleaning crew is coming in to scour the place down, including removing all the furniture, etc., and then the design team is coming in later this week to remake it for another show."

"Oh." Rodney stood there for a moment, just letting her comment settle in. They were moving on to another group of people already.

She gave him another smile. "It's a different production team. There are quite a few of them that rotate use of certain resources."

"I just…never considered that."

She nodded. "Usually you guys are gone first thing."

Rodney looked around before nodding to himself. "Let me get my bags and I'm ready to go."

"Same here." John shouldered a duffel bag, and had a rolling suitcase he was ready to pull behind him.

Rodney moved quickly, grabbing his bags. He looked around, making sure he wasn't leaving anything behind.

With a last look, they walked out the door, and it was shut behind him. He realized he would never see the place again, at least, not like it had been for them.

He was quiet as they loaded their luggage into the car, settling in next to John, the vehicle pulling away from the curb moments later. It was strange that it was over—for now at least. It was finally settling in to his brain.

At the hotel, it was more emotional than he had anticipated. Evan and Radek both got out to give them huge hugs. They all made plans to have dinner together as soon as they were back in town for the finale.

But that was three months from now. A veritable lifetime.

Then the car was driving away, and it was just him and John. No cameras. No curious eyes.

He glanced nervously at John. "So. Check-in time."

John nodded, picking up his bag. "Yeah, let's go drop off our stuff and check out the room before we go find food."

The check-in was surprisingly easy. They had been booked into a small boutique hotel with a very old traditional meets modern décor. It was a little weird, honestly, but the longer Rodney stood in the lobby the more it grew on him.

The room wasn't fancy. John changed their two queen bed room to a king room. It was small—like all New York hotels—and overlooked a brick wall. But it was perfect, the bathroom complete with a soaking tub and updated fixtures.

"Wow, this is really nice." John looked around as they dropped their bags. "Really nice."

"I've stayed in nicer places, but this will do," Rodney said, dropping down onto the bed to test it out. It wasn't bad. He might still be walking at the end of the week.

"So have I, but not for this price, and not in the heart of Manhattan."

"There is that," Rodney said with a nod. "So. Food?"

"Yes. What are you in the mood for?"

"Food. Something hot and greasy."

John chuckled as they headed back out. "Let's ask the concierge then, for what's close by that fits that description."

"I should also stop at a bank and get some cash for the week."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Good," Rodney said, shifting nervously on his feet as they waited for the elevator. He kept glancing at John, amazed that they were there together.

John seemed relaxed and loose, though.

They got several suggestions from the front desk and then headed out. They settled on the second place they were given—the first one had far too many citrus products on the menu—sliding into a booth in the back of the restaurant.

John relaxed even more, smiling softly. "This is really nice."

"It feels weird not to have…people around."

"Yeah. But nice. It was weird living in a fishbowl."

"Strangely enough, I got used to it."

"Yeah. But it will be better to get used to some alone time."

"Well, yeah," Rodney said with a shy smile, ducking his head into his menu.

Under the table, John's foot ran up Rodney's calf. He jumped, nearly spilling the water glasses as his knee hit the underside of the table.

John's chuckle was dirty.

"Food…we need food."

"I can do two things at once."

"Well, as we've already discussed, I can't."

John laughed again. "Fine. I'll keep my feet to myself until I have you to myself."

Rodney blushed again, trying to concentrate on the menu and not on the patch of skin that was still tingling from where John had brushed against it. "I'm not trying to be difficult."

"I know."

"This is just…a lot to take in."

John shrugged. "We only move as fast as you want to."

"I want you to fuck me, but I think they'd frown on it here."

John's eyes went dark. "God... you can't just say things like that when I can't act on them."

"Sorry, sorry," Rodney said, ducking his head again. "It's just…I say what I'm thinking and I can be brutally honest. It's a bad character trait, I know, but…"

"No," John's voice had gone a bit husky. "It's not a bad trait at all. I want to fuck you."

Rodney lifted his head, narrowing his eyes. "But we need supplies. There's no bareback until you get tested. I don't trust Lorne and his wandering penis."

John nodded. "We passed a pharmacy on the way here. On the way back, we'll stop in."

"We need to stock up on supplies and snacks and whatnot."

"We can get all that there. Besides, we do want to go out at least a few times to the MET."

"Yes, yes, of course," Rodney said bobbing his head. "So. What are you getting for lunch?"

"Other than wanting to eat you up? A sandwich, I think."

Rodney blushed again, trying to ignore the tingle in his nether parts. "I'm thinking a burger and fries."

"Sounds good. I'll have that, too."

The waitress arrived moments later, plunking down two glasses of water with lemon. "What can I get you?"

John jumped in before Rodney could. "Would you mind bringing us back two glasses without any lemon? My friend here is allergic to it."

"Sure," she said, snapping her gum. "Were you ready to order?"

John nodded. "Two burgers with fries, please. And if you wouldn't mind making sure the glasses are cleaned out?"

"Mine with Colby Jack cheese," Rodney said, raising his hand. "Also, what beer do you have on tap?"

She snapped her gum again. "Miller."

"And?"

"Bud."

Rodney resisted the urge to sigh. "You do realize that the better you treat us the larger your tip is, right?"

She shrugged. "Look, I've been here ten hours already, and someone called in sick so they won't let me go home. Sorry if I'm offending you, but I'm tired and my feet hurt. The beer on tap here is watered down. If you want something, get a bottle. The list is on the back of the menu."

"Thank you," Rodney said flipping to the back. He quickly scanned the list. "Magic Hat No. 9."

"Got it. Anything else?"

Rodney looked across the table. "Did you want beer or something?"

John shook his head. "Water without any lemon is fine for me."

She nodded, making a note on her pad and then was off, leaving the glasses on the table. John rolled his eyes, picking them up and moving them to an empty table nearby.

"So," Rodney said after a few minutes of silence.

John smiled. "Tell me more about your life back home. You've mentioned your cat, but not much else."

Rodney shrugged. "Not much more to tell. I work. I go home. I have a cat."

"Where do you work? Where do you live?"

"Toronto for both."

"And?"

"And what? I work. I sleep. I eat. Not much more to say."

John sighed. "You can tell me about what you do at work. What your apartment looks like. What you do for fun. Where your favorite places are."

"I'm boring you, aren't I?"

"No. But I want to get to know more of you than just what's on the surface, what you show the world. I want to know you."

Rodney snorted. "Trust me. It's better off that you don't."

John shook his head. "I want to be in a relationship with you. That means no hiding."

He shrugged again, shifting in his seat. "I don't know what to tell you. And besides, you don't really know a person until you've spent an enormous amount of time with them in their space and we're not doing that. Right now we just have a more…basic attraction."

"So let's build on it."

Rodney rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "I don't cook. I own a cat. I spend too much time watching sci-fi shows and designing stuff."

"Ooo, which sci-fi shows are your favorites?"

"Original Trek, but I put up with the stuff that's on now. Nothing has been able to live up to that…maybe except for Babylon 5."

"Kirk or Picard?"

"Kirk, of course. You?"

John grinned. "That was the only acceptable answer. No one can top Kirk."

"Good. I don't know if I could like you if you were a Picard fan."

"I was going to say the same thing. That might have been a deal breaker. Favorite episode?"

"City on the Edge of Forever."

"Nice."

"You?"

"I have to go with Trouble with Tribbles. It was a classic."

"Okay. That one's not bad. I'll give you that. So, how about you? What about you?"

"I have a brother who's more or less the normal one. At least, he's the one my parents consider normal. My father and I don't have the greatest of relationships, mostly because he can't accept that not only am I gay, but I'm perpetually unemployed. All I want to do is design, so I take odd jobs to make enough money to support myself in between gigs where they'll let me make things. I'm hoping this show will change that."

Rodney nodded. "I know what you mean. Most people still consider me a student since I'm perpetually taking classes and only working when I find something. I'm just glad my landlord understands."

"Yeah. I have a couple of good friends who get me through, too."

"Carson's nice—surprisingly nice, actually. I've known him for years, since I first moved to the apartment when I started school."

"I hope I get to meet him some day. I want you to meet Ronon and Teyla, too."

"Who are they?"

"My closest friends. Teyla and I have been friends for who knows how long, and Ronon is her man."

"Oh, so…surfer people."

John smiled. "Ronon surfs, but Teyla doesn't."

"But she's probably disgustingly good-looking," Rodney said with a scowl as the waitress returned with their drinks—and two glasses of lemon-infested water.

John shrugged. "I'm not into girls, so I couldn't tell you. And ma'am, these still have lemon in them."

"Oh. You were the one who wanted no lemon."

"Yeah." John smiled at her. "My friend is allergic."

"I don't think you want to end up with an ambulance pulling up outside of your restaurant," Rodney said, wiping the neck of his beer bottle with his napkin. "Or, in a worst case scenario, a coroner's van."

John flinched. "Yeah, no. Totally not on the agenda today."

"I'd rather not spend my first day free in the hospital mostly dead, either."

The waitress took the glasses and walked away again.

"I'm thinking she's not getting a very good tip today."

"Maybe. I'm trying to be polite, but if we get another cup with lemon in it, we're going somewhere else."

"I’m ready to gnaw my arm off. I want to eat."

"Me, too, but not at the expense of what I have planned this afternoon when we get back to the hotel."

Rodney felt his cheeks flush again as he glanced down. "So. You have surfer buddies."

"Yeah. I like to surf. It's relaxing. I'm actually considering using the sport and the ocean and beach as the inspiration for my line."

"It would certainly be you."

John nodded. "Exactly. I could really capture that spirit and show the judges something about me."

"So," Rodney said after a few moments of silence settled between them. It was a little awkward, to be perfectly honest, to be sitting here knowing that they would be having sex in a few hours.

John rolled his eyes. "Why are we playing the first-date game? We know each other, we know we're attracted to each other, and we have a lot in common already."

"Because this is our first date."

"I guess. But still, it's not like we don't know each other."

Rodney shrugged. "I guess. It's still weird."

"Only if we make it weird. Tell me about what your initial thoughts are for your collection."

Rodney made a face, shifting in his seat as he took a sip of his beer. "I don't know, honestly. I was hoping the museum would give me some spark of inspiration."

John smiled. "Then we'll go there tomorrow and wander around with our sketchbooks. I want to look anyway, since I kind of have an idea of incorporating some elements of classic art into my collection as well. It's still unformed, but I want to do some sketching."

"So surfer dude meets Ancient Greece?"

"Kind of. I want to do something different, but that still reflects me."

Rodney bobbed his head, taking another sip of his beer. It wasn't too bad, but he wished he had a Molson. "Makes sense."

"I think that's what we need to do to make it all the way to Bryant Park. Really show the judges what kind of designer we want to be, and take a few risks."

"And design something people actually want to see."

"Yes. And that could translate from the runway to the retail store."

"If you actually want to design for retail."

"I want someone to pay me to keep designing, which means selling something."

"I guess. But there's retail and then there's retail, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah. I'm not sure which direction I'll take yet. I just want something that I can sell so I can keep designing."

"I know. Carson's nice, but he's not going to let me live rent-free for much longer."

"So we're going to create amazing collections, and no matter what happens, we're both going to pick up wealthy people who want to pay us to make clothes for them."

Rodney snorted, nearly spitting out some of his beer. "Yeah, right."

John grinned at him.

"Bastard."

"Yup."

Rodney scowled at him, draining the last of his beer. He glanced around the restaurant, looking for the waitress who was chatting up another table on the other side. He couldn't wait for his food.

A foot caressed the inside of his leg. Rodney snapped his head back around, his eyes wide as he looked at John.

"When we get back to the hotel, I think I'm going to peel you out of your clothes slowly. Like unwrapping a present."

Rodney blushed. Intellectually he knew John had already seen him naked, but this was different. It felt different.

"And then, I'm going to take the time to explore you. I want to touch every inch of skin."

"Well, there's certainly a lot. It'll take you a long time."

"I plan to spend hours learning you tonight."

Rodney blushed again, ducking his head as the waitress appeared at the table with their food. "Here you go, boys. Anything else?"

"Just that water without lemon. Thanks." John grinned.

"Oh. Well, all the pitchers we have all have lemon."

John sighed. "All right, how about two cokes then?"

"Actually, just get me another beer," Rodney said, sliding his empty bottle over.

John raised an eyebrow. "I want you completely aware tonight."

"And two beers aren't going to be an issue. I designed winning garments with a hangover."

"Yeah, but I don't want you remembering this with a haze. I want it all to be front and center."

The waitress stood there, looking back and forth between them. "So, am I getting another beer or not?"

John shrugged. "I won't tell you what to do, but I do have plans for later."

"One more," Rodney said.

The waitress nodded and wandered off again. They both dug into their food, stopping conversation for a few minutes.

"This is…amazing," Rodney said, his mouth half-full of his burger.

"Uh huh." John was talking around his own food.

Rodney second Magic Hat No. 9 went down slower than the first as he savored it, finishing the last of it with the last of his French fries. He leaned back in the booth, letting out a long sigh. "Oh. That was good."

John had leaned back earlier and was just watching him. "Mmm. And I can't wait for dessert."

"I can't eat another bite."

"I wasn't talking about food."

"What?" Rodney said, and then blinked as realization dawned. "Oh."

"Yeah." John's smile was filthy.

"I said we needed to stop for supplies and snacks first."

"Yes, but that's on the way."

"I'm just saying that it's not going to happen spontaneously once we leave here."

"Anticipation is half the fun."

"So you say."

"Aren't you having fun?"

"I don't know yet. I'm still…figuring it out."

"So just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Rodney blushed again. "Well, I certainly am expecting a good ride."

John hummed, giving Rodney another dirty smile.

"So…we heading out? I guess we need the check."

"Yeah. Let's pay so we can go play."

"Okay," Rodney said with a nod, looking around for the waitress.

In another ten minutes, they were out the door and headed straight for the pharmacy across the street. Rodney headed for the snacks, letting John deal with the other more embarrassing items. They reconvened at the register, and John was holding a basket filled with stuff.

"Do you think you have enough?" Rodney asked, eyeballing the basket.

"We might need to come back for more, but this should get us through the night."

Rodney felt his eyes widen. There were…bottles and tubes and boxes of stuff. John was whistling as he walked up to pay.

"There's no way…all tonight," Rodney muttered under his breath as he took his turn, paying for the various snacks he'd grabbed.

"I want to be prepared for anything," John called over his shoulder.

Rodney shook his head as he grabbed his bags, following John out the door. They glanced around and then headed back down the street and to the hotel.

John was practically bouncing.

"You know, with all the pressure, I might not be able to…perform as you think I should be able to."

"There's no pressure. I want to touch you."

"But," Rodney protested, hands waving. "What if I don't do what you're expecting? This is doomed to all kinds of failure."

John stopped and turned to face him. "I'm not expecting anything, Rodney. I'm just looking forward to being able to take my time touching you however and wherever I want, without cameras or people around to interrupt."

Rodney blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah." John reached out his free hand to cup Rodney's face.

Rodney leaned in, licking his lips, his eyes focused on John's lips. "No interruptions, eh?"

"None whatsoever. All night long, just me and you."

"Just you and me," he repeated. "I think I like that."

"I more than just like it."

Rodney smiled slowly, licking his lips again. For some reason they were getting really dry. John let his hand fall to twine through Rodney's fingers. He started them walking again.

Rodney shifted, banging his shoulder into John's as they walked slowly back to the hotel, letting the silence fall over them. This was…kind of nice.

***

John could tell Rodney was nervous, and he wished he knew why. But since Rodney still seemed eager and willing, John decided to just roll with it, and play it by ear.

Back at the hotel, he took his bounty and set it all up on the dresser, laying it all out so they could both see it, and it would be quick to grab what he wanted when he needed it. Then he stripped his shirt off and turned around to look at Rodney.

He was staring at all of their supplies, his bags of food and drinks abandoned on the chair in the corner of the room. He'd toed off his shoes moments after arriving in the room, kicking them to the side.

For now, John was going to take it slow. He hadn't been kidding when he had told Rodney he just wanted to take his time and touch.

"So," Rodney said, drawing out the word.

"Come here."

Rodney scowled—a much familiar expression by now—but moved over to John, pausing before he took a step into his personal space. "Hey," he said with a shy smile.

Humming, John let his hands come to rest at Rodney's waist. "Hi."

"Why is it that this is making me so nervous? It's not like we haven't done anything before."

"Because you always knew we could only go so far with other people around. Now, it's just us, with no interruptions and no distractions."

"It didn't stop some people," he said with a wry smile.

"Yeah, but neither of us is interested in sex with an audience." John slid his hands up under Rodney's shirt, wanting to touch skin.

Rodney shivered under John's hand. "No. Sex with an audience is for really bad porn flicks and seedy bars."

John hummed again, his attention getting focused on the way Rodney felt, he slowly drew his hands up, until he could pull the shirt up and off.

"Hey," Rodney protested quietly. "It's cold in here."

"You won't be cold very long." John ran his hands all over the other man's torso, loving the play of muscle and hair.

"You sure about that?" Rodney asked, his eyebrow rising in question. His hands were skimming carefully over John's skin, light enough to make him twitch a little as it bordered on tickling.

"Oh yeah."

"I guess we'll see," Rodney said, shivering a little, the little nubs of his nipples already erect—either from the cool air or arousal, John wasn't sure.

John lowered his head slowly so he could flick one of the tight little buds with his tongue.

"Oh…"

John shifted so he could give the other one the same taste.

"Okay, okay," Rodney said, shoving John back a bit, his voice already rough. "This standing thing is not going to work."

"So strip and go lie on the bed."

"Just like that?"

John smiled. "I want to spend time just learning you, touching you."

Rodney shifted over to the bed, dropping down with a bounce. "I'm not going to stop you."

"Get your clothes off so I can have full access."

Rodney narrowed his eyes. "And you think ordering me around the bedroom is going to make this go well?"

"It's not an order. More of a... suggestion. Let me touch you, Rodney, like I've been dying to do for weeks now."

"A suggestion? Well, why don't you come over here and we'll see just how far we get?"

John smiled and moved closer, toeing off his shoes as he went. "I'm leaving my pants on for now, because if we're both naked, I won't be able to focus on making you melt into the sheets properly."

"Uh huh. We'll see about that," Rodney said as he scooted back on the bed. He gestured to John with an impatient hand. "Come on."

Smiling, John climbed up, straddling Rodney and looking down at him. "Damn, you are so hot."

"I'm overweight, pale, and balding, but I do have to admit that I am quite a handsome man."

"You're seriously hot."

"I'm not going to argue with you about that," Rodney said, looking up at John as his hands touched him a little firmer than he had before. Humming, John returned his own hands to Rodney's sides, running them up and down.

They continued touching for a while, exchanging kisses that got more and more passionate as the time progressed. John loved how Rodney felt under his hands, how he sounded. He loved the little hitches in his breath every time John hit a sensitive spot. He loved the full-body shimmy Rodney did when he really got turned on.

John was thoroughly enjoying himself.

And they still had their pants on. That had never happened before.

John encouraged Rodney to flip over on to his stomach so he could give that broad back the same treatment as the front.

Rodney turned slowly, wiggling into position a few moments later. He melted into the bed as soon as John's hands touched his back.

John gave him a very...erotic massage. He figured while he was touching anyway, he might as well work out some of the tension in the other man's shoulders.

By the time John's hands were starting to ache from the massage, Rodney was moaning, continually shifting under John.

Moving back up to the head of the bed, John trailed his fingers in random patterns all over Rodney's back. He was hard, but he was surprised to realize he would be content to get no release if he could do this for the rest of the day.

Rodney blinked up at him, eyes glazed with pleasure. "God…" he whispered, his voice deep and rough. "Should…should take of my pants. I don't wanna…"

John hummed his agreement. That would give him more skin to touch.

"Have to…have to move, though."

"Roll over and then you can just lift your hips and I'll pull them off for you."

Rodney huffed something, shifting on the bed, but ended up only lifting up his hips, his ass in the air.

Laughing softly, John reached underneath him to fumble the clasp open, and then with a little work he was able to slide both the pants and boxers off the other man's hips.

"Careful," Rodney grumbled, not helping John one iota.

Ignoring the griping, he gave Rodney a little push to tumble him onto his side, and wrapped a hand around the now-exposed dick, cutting off any protest.

"Hey," he complained even as he thrust up into John's hand. Rodney looked…amazing and debauched especially with his pants still around his knees.

John couldn't help but pant a little as he slowly stroked Rodney, learning the feel of him, the weight, what he liked.

"John…" he whispered, the word drawn out. His eyes slid closed and he arched his back, heels pressing into the bed. It was like he was holding his reactions back, trying not to press up into John's hand.

It was amazing and perfect. Just what John had fantasized about all those nights. He paused, just holding Rodney loosely in his hand, letting them both cool down a little, letting John really look at Rodney, all of him.

"God, you're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"You don't have to exaggerate, you'll still get sex."

"You are. God..." John had to swallow hard.

Rodney's face did something weird but then he was reaching out to John, tugging him down on top of him and wrapping his arms around him.

John went willingly, opening his mouth to devour Rodney's in a searing kiss. Rodney moaned into the kiss, opening up a few beats later to kiss John back just as hungrily.

That was it. John couldn't do the lazy touching anymore. Skin, he needed skin now.

Shifting back, he shoved himself away from Rodney only long enough to pull the rest of his clothes from his body and strip them from Rodney's. He tossed them all onto the floor and climbed back on top of the other man.

It was heaven. Skin, a little bit of sweat, panting, groping... It was all perfect.

Neither of them lasted much longer. They kissed and rocked together, coming one after the other and making a wet, sticky mess between them.

John couldn't hold his weight up, and he barely managed to roll enough to the side to not crush Rodney as he tried to catch his breath. Damn that had been good.

Rodney didn't complain in any case, warm and limp next to John. He shifted, rolling to his side and throwing an arm over John's waist.

Just like that, they were both warm, sated, and it was just... perfect. John let his eyes close and drifted off to sleep. He needed to rest up for round two.

***

Rodney woke up at some point later, the afternoon sun streaming in the window, his stomach growling. They'd shifted at some point ending up spooned together, John settled close along his back, his arm hugging Rodney close to John's chest.

It was nice. Really nice.

John mumbled something in his sleep and pulled Rodney closer.

He eyed the food across the room, debating if he could manage to untangle himself long enough to grab one of the snack cakes he'd bought.

When he tried to move again, the arm draped over him tightened down.

"John…" he grumbled, the word ending in a sigh.

"Mmmmph."

"I really could use a trip to the bathroom and a snack. You know, if you're awake enough to understand speech and comprehend what I'm telling you."

"Mmmmmmmmcomfy."

"Yes, yes, I know. This is actually a passably good bed."

"Don't wanna move."

"But I'd rather not pee in the bed if I have the choice."

John grumbled, but relaxed his grip. "Be fast."

"Or what?" Rodney asked with a scowl in John's direction as he crawled out of the bed, padding off to the bathroom.

"I'll.... think of something."

Rodney chuckled to himself, taking a few minutes in the bathroom after he'd relieved his bladder to clean off some of the semen that had dried on his skin. He brought a warm washcloth with him, tossing it at John's head as he sidetracked to the chair to grab a snack.

Still sounding like he was more asleep than awake, John fumbled at the cloth and gave a half-hearted wipe.

"Want anything? Water? Cupcake?"

"Yes."

Rodney straightened, scowling at John again. "You do realize that wasn't a yes or no question. What do you want?"

John lifted his head to blink blearily at Rodney. "Whatever you're having is good."

Rodney's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Did I wear you out already?"

John just stuck out his tongue.

"How do you expect to fuck me for any length of time when a simple session of frottage wore you out?"

"I'm not worn out, just basking in the relaxed glow."

"Worn out. It's hours later."

"Relaxed."

Rodney snorted, turning back to the bag of snacks. "Worn out."

"Food."

"Need something sweet to get your blood sugar back up because I…wore you out?"

"Shut up."

Rodney tossed some Drakes cakes toward the bed, digging out two bottles of water. "Why? Too tired for an actual comeback?"

John mumbled something Rodney didn't catch, but sat up and opened the cake.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Get your food and come back to bed."

Rodney smirked. "Or what?" He opened the top of his water, taking a sip. "I wore you out so you're too tired to do anything."

"I'm relaxed, not worn out. And I'd rather not blow all my boneless goodness chasing you around the room."

"Uh huh."

"Come back to bed. I like cuddling."

"I noticed." Rodney capped his water bottle and took a few steps toward the bed. "I didn't take you for a cuddlier."

"Well, I am." John's cheeks took on a pinkish cast.

"What else are you?" Rodney asked, putting his water bottle on the bedside table as he climbed up onto the edge of the bed.

"What do you mean?" John leaned over to tug Rodney back up close against his body.

"You're a cuddler," Rodney said, letting John settle him. "You're a tad bit bossy—so I'm guessing you prefer fucking rather than getting fucked."

"I like both, to be honest, although I do tend to be on top more than on the bottom, in general."

"Why?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. It just always seems to work out that way."

"Do you feel too vulnerable?"

"I think... it's more a trust thing. I haven't had great luck with guys."

Rodney nodded, reaching for his snack, the plastic loud in the silence. "I understand. You don't do something like that—either on top or on the bottom—unless you trust the person you're with. It's very intimate."

"Yeah." John was quiet for a moment. "But I want to do it with you. Both ways."

"I'm not trying to push anything, you know. I'm just having a conversation."

"I know." John's lips brushed against Rodney's skin.

Rodney hummed, finally getting the wrapper open and taking a bite. "So…what other things are you? We have cuddler, top. What else?"

"I don't know. I never really thought about it. It's just... me."

"There has to be something else."

"Probably, I just don't know. I have to have it pointed out. What about you?"

Rodney shrugged, licking his fingers. "I've always had a preference for bottoming. I also enjoy sucking cock." He paused. "Actually, I don't think there's anything that involves a cock I don't like. At least nothing comes to mind. I don't like one night stands—don't do them. The whole nameless sex thing doesn't interest me. Which probably explains why I don't get laid very often. But the relationships I've had—two of them—were a lot of fun and we liked experimenting."

John smiled at him. "I've never been into one night stands either. I let Lorne talk me into that one, but it's the first and last time I try it. I like all the stuff that goes with sex as part of a relationship."

"I hate small talk—as you probably noticed. And when I do something it's an all or nothing proposition—which is also why I haven't had a relationship recently."

"You've also been focusing on your design, right?"

"Sometimes…which is also part of my issue with all or nothing. The last…person I was involved with has a restraining order against me. I may have been a…little…overzealous."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Rodney said with a shrug, feeling his cheeks flush. He kept his head down, eyes on the rest of his cupcake. "It…I may have gone a little…overboard with things."

"Such as?"

"I'd really…rather not…"

"Why not? I promise, I won't run screaming. I'm interested."

"I…may have…shown up at his office. Every day. For two weeks. Even after he'd told me he wasn't interested in me anymore."

"Why did you keep going?"

"I thought I could change his mind. He was obviously deluded to think that we didn't work. We'd been working well for six months. Of course, I didn't know at that point that he'd been seeing someone else, too…" Rodney shrugged, feeling his cheeks flush more.

"He cheated on you?"

Rodney shrugged. "He…wanted something else, I guess."

"Then he was stupid and didn't know what he had."

"Just because I liked knowing what he was doing and talking to him doesn't mean I was controlling or manipulative."

"I don't think that's wrong. It's called being interested in someone enough to care about what they're doing and wanting to be involved in their life."

"So…yeah." Rodney shrugged, finishing off the last of his snack. He tossed the plastic onto the bedside table. "The all or nothing thing has been an issue of mine that I still haven't been able to work through. Kate said I was improving, but I could tell she wasn't happy with my rate of improvement."

"Why should you have to change? Why can't you just wait until you find someone who feels the same way?"

"My outlook was…unrealistic."

John snorted. "That sounds like something a therapist told you to say."

"Well, that was one of the requirements. Look, can we not talk about my therapist?"

John laughed softly, and Rodney felt it tickle the small hairs on his neck. "Okay. Let's go back to talking about what else you like in bed and in a partner."

Rodney huffed, leaning back into John, letting him take some of his weight. "I don't know. I'm pretty flexible in bed and I like to experiment. I don't really like being hurt, but a little can sometimes be fun…if you know what I mean."

"Mmmm, like nipple tweaking?"

"They're very sensitive. I actually came once when Andy was playing with them." Rodney sighed, thinking back to that time before the restraining order. Things had been good.

John's hand snaked around and began to roll one of Rodney's nipples. "Good to know. What else do you like?"

"Sex," Rodney said with a moan, instinctively pressing back against John.

"Well, yes, but I'm looking for more specifics. What do you fantasize about? What gets you hard so fast your head spins?"

"Love…love getting rimmed and fucked…fingered." He shuddered just thinking about what John could do to him.

John shifted them slightly, and then a finger was lightly tracking around his entrance while John's other hand continued to fondle the nipple he had latched on to. "Like this?"

"Oh yeah…" he said, breathing into the pillow. How did they end up lying down on their sides so quickly?

"Mmm. So do you like it just like this, or with a little lube, and having it slip inside?"

Rodney groaned getting completely hard in an instant.

"Lube it is, then." Fortunately, they had bought a lot, and it was close enough that John was able to grab it without forcing Rodney to move much.

"Better…better grab a condom, too."

"I should, hmm?"

"You are not going in there bareback. We had that discussion."

"Yes, but you're assuming I'm going to let you have more than my finger right now."

"Of course I'm assuming that! That's what this all leads up to."

"Sometimes. And other times, it's just really good all by itself."

"Nonono. This always leads to fucking."

John's chuckle was evil. "Sometimes it does, and sometimes it doesn't."

Rodney's hands fisted in the sheets. "Oh yes, it does. It always does."

"Not always." John's fingers continued to do wicked things.

"Always," Rodney gasped. "Always does."

"Maybe."

"No! There's no maybe," Rodney protested, groaning as John's finger slid inside him a little deeper.

"Why don't you just lay back and relax, and stop worrying about it?"

"Because I'm not that kind of person."

"Hmm, a challenge."

"Come on," Rodney grumbled, trying to shift his ass to get John to do more. "Just fuck me already."

John's fingers just slid in deeper, touching that special spot inside him.

Rodney howled, his entire body shuddering in pleasure. When he was able to get a breath he tired to shift to move to get John to actually do something. He wanted all of him inside him right now.

But John didn't comply. He was holding Rodney down with one hand while the other continued to stroke him deep.

"Damn it, come on, please…"

"Just enjoy."

"I'm…I'm not just going to lay here and take it," he panted out, shifting and shuddering on the bed as John did wicked things to his ass.

"Yes, you are."

"Not…not in this lifetime." Rodney tried to spread his legs to encourage John to do more…like actually fuck him.

But John just used the opportunity to work a second finger in.

"Come on…" Rodney demanded a little breathlessly. He groaned as John started to stretch him open slowly, way too slowly.

"You're going to get what I give you."

"And I want more now, damn it."

John just laughed softly again, working Rodney open at that same slow, intense pace. Rodney groaned, hands fisting in the sheets. John was going to drive him out of his mind.

A third finger worked inside him, pressing him open and rubbing against the sweet spot. Rodney saw white spots dancing as John continued to massage that small little gland, pleasure soaking into his muscles, melting him into the bed.

John continued to press harder, faster, bringing Rodney closer and closer to the edge. Between one breath and the next, Rodney climaxed, groaning out John's name, his body going limp and sated.

John continued to massage him all the way through it, and seemed to know just when to pull out. Rodney panted into the bed, trying to catch his breath as his body settled nicely into afterglow.

"Better?"

He managed to make some kind of sound of agreement in the back of his throat. He really wanted to say it would be even better to get fucked like this—all loose and soft—but the words were a long way in coming.

He only vaguely paid attention to what John was doing, but then he was shifted a few times before he felt a condom-covered cock was pressing into him.

He groaned. John was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

He used a few slow strokes to make sure Rodney was open and ready for him, and then he sped up and gave Rodney everything he had wanted.

With the way John was pounding into him, Rodney knew he was going to have sheet-burn, but he didn't care. It felt so damn good. And, if John was as good as Rodney thought he was, John would be able to get him hard again before he had another mind-numbing orgasm.

So the whole lie here and take it thing was pretty okay right now.

"You going to come again? Like this, with me taking you?"

Rodney moaned some approximation of a yes or a maybe. Honestly, Rodney wasn't sure. He was too busy getting his brains fucked out to know the difference.

John slowed down, but before he could protest, John shifted him up on to his knees and a hand wrapped around his dick. "You're hard again. Come again for me, Rodney. Let me feel it this time."

Rodney couldn't argue, wouldn't argue. Not now. Not like this. John stroked him twice and he was coming again, this time with John's cock buried deep inside of him. It was intense and perfect and a little too much but it was so hot and good.

John cried out a few seconds later, his rhythm getting erratic before slowing to a stop.

John slumped down on top of him, breathing heavily into Rodney's neck.

"Mmmmmm."

Rodney moaned something positive in reply. It was the only thing he could do. But one thing was absolutely certain. He'd give anything to have this kind of fuck every day of his life.

***

Going home felt…odd. John was still partially back in New York, reliving over and over the amazing week he and Rodney had spent together. Not to mention the amazing sex.

As he stepped off the plane in California, he looked around to see who of the several people he had left messages for had actually shown up to pick him up. He spotted Ronon's dreadlocks first, his six-foot-plus frame standing out over the majority of the other people waiting for the other passengers to disembark.

A huge smile crossed his face and he made his way in that direction. "Ronon! Man, it's great to see you!"

"Sheppard!" Ronon was pounding him on the back seconds later, lifting him from his feet as he gave him a hug. "Congratulations on making it to the finals!"

John grinned. "I can't believe it either."

"I knew you'd do well," he said as he put John back on the ground. "Teyla's waiting in the car."

"I can't wait to tell you guys all about it. And I only have a few months to create my final collection."

"You'll be fine. Wanna surf tomorrow?" Ronon asked as they headed for the exit.

"Oh god, yes. New York was awesome, but dude, no waves at all."

"What do you expect? It's the East. There's nothing there. The waves have been fantastic the last week. You should have been here."

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in." John grinned at him as they grabbed his bags from the claim area and headed for the car.

"They were totally bitchin' if you want my opinion."

"Yeah, yeah. But it was totally worth it for me to be there."

Ronon shrugged. "I know this was a big thing for you. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do, but whatever it was it at least got you in the finals so it's all good."

"And more than that—I'm hoping it will jump start my whole career. And…I met someone."

Ronon stopped, turning to look at John. "You said you weren't looking, that you were concentrating on your career."

"I wasn't. But let's wait until we get in the car. I don't want to have to repeat it all and Teyla would kill me if I didn't tell her at the same time."

"Sheppard, you know what happened the last time," Ronon said, but started moving again toward the exit.

"I know, I know. But I just.... I can't resist him."

"I'm not going to tell you it's a bad idea, but…"

"I know." John sighed. "Which is why I'm waiting until we're in the car. I don't want to hear the same lecture twice."

"I'm not gonna lecture you," he said as they reached the car, Teyla climbing out gracefully a broad smile on her face.

"John! It is good to see you again!"

"Teyla!" He closed the distance and gave her a huge hug.

"You look well," she said pressing a kiss to his cheek before stepping back. Her eyes narrowed. "You have found someone."

John's eyes widened. "How did you know that?"

"Women always know," she said with a smile. "You are…content for the first time in years."

John shook his head. "I didn't know it showed that much. But yeah, I did. I'll tell you all about him in the car."

"Come. Sit in the front next to me. We shall let Ronon sit in the back," she said with a teasing smile at their hulking friend. "He refused to drive so I get to pick my front-seat companion."

Laughing, John followed her direction and they all piled in. It took him most of the ride to tell them about Rodney, surprisingly without any interruptions.

When they finally pulled up in front of his apartment complex he was parched from talking for the entire ride home and a little anxious because he hadn't spoken to Rodney in hours. Teyla leaned over and gave him a sweet kiss on his cheek.

"I am pleased you have found someone—even if Ronon disapproves."

John felt himself blush a little. "I know what he means. It's not exactly the best idea, but... I couldn't stay away from him. It was like my world just started to revolve in his orbit or something."

"Just be careful," she said with a soft smile. "Ronon is a worrier."

He smiled at both of them. "I will. And dude, we are so going surfing tomorrow, okay?"

"Tomorrow? How about now? I left my board here."

John blinked. "Um. Can I have a few minutes to unpack? I don't even know where I left my swim trunks."

"They're on your bed. I pulled them out for you." Ronon gave him a wicked smile.

John had to laugh. "Give me ten minutes to change then. And no mocking me out there. It's been a while since I could practice."

Teyla just rolled her eyes. "Ronon has been keeping an eye on your apartment since you left. You may have a difficult time removing him."

"Really? Thanks, man!" John smiled as they walked up with him, helping him carry his bags. "I was afraid it was going to smell like an old lady house."

"I have barely seen him while you were gone," Teyla said. "He has been too busy watching your home—and spending time on the beach."

"Well, this apartment does have awesome access."

Teyla rolled her eyes again as John opened the door to his apartment, taking a deep breath once he was inside. Home. Tension he didn't know he was holding fell away as he moved deeper inside.

He walked around, soaking it all in. "You guys are going to have to let me buy you dinner tonight. For taking care of the place for me, and picking me up at the airport. I won't take no for an answer."

"Then you should learn to live with disappointment," Teyla said with a smile. "I have steaks marinating in the fridge at home and a full tank of gas for the barbeque. Ronon wished to cook tonight."

John had to laugh and shake his head. "You're always one step ahead of me."

"I expect to see both of you tonight at five. Do not be late," she said, offering a wave as she headed back outside, leaving Ronon and John alone.

John grinned. "Let me get changed, and then you can help me get reacquainted with the waves."

Ronon nodded. "I'll meet you outside."

John nodded, and moved into his bedroom, quickly changing. Before he headed out, he called Rodney's cell and left him a message that he had made it home safe and was catching up with friends, and would call again that night.

He pushed down the small piece of disappointment that had cropped up when Rodney hadn't answered his phone. He was busy and visiting friends and getting settled in. Nothing more.

The rest of the evening was really nice. He hadn't lost as much of his touch surfing as he had feared, and he and Ronon stayed out on the waves until the sun was starting to set. By the time they had changed and made it back to the apartment Ronon and Teyla shared, John was pleasantly tired, but nothing had chased Rodney from his mind.

"Are you tired, John?" Teyla asked once they'd settled in the living room, pleasantly full.

"Yeah, but in a good way. It's been a wild day."

"Then perhaps you should go home to rest."

He shrugged. "I'll head out soon. I've missed you guys though. I don't want to just run off."

"We have plenty of time to catch up now that you are home," Teyla said with a smile. "Go home and call your Rodney."

He grinned. "I really am that obvious, huh?"

"You are."

He shook his head, but did stand up. "I am getting tired. It's been a long day, and tomorrow, I need to start really getting serious about my sketches. I'll need to decide which ones I want to develop further, and then finalize them so I can start shopping for fabric. A few months sounds like a long time, but I really want to produce something amazing, so I don't want to put it off."

"You will make a wonderful collection, John, I am certain of it," Teyla said, rising to her feet. She moved gracefully to him and gave him a hug. "Go and rest. You deserve time to yourself."

"Thanks." He gave them both big hugs again, and then headed home. He forced himself to take a quick shower before he picked up the phone and dialed Rodney again.

The phone rang several times before getting picked up, but instead of a voice he heard a lot of open air and fumbling.

"Hello?"

John waited, repeating the word twice more before the sounds changed. "—lo?"

"Rodney?"

There were some more fumbling sounds on the phone before the voice came again. "Hello?"

"Rodney? It's John."

It took a long moment before he got a reply. "John? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Hey."

"Hey…sorry. Stupid allergies gave me a migraine and Carson gave me something…" There was some shuffling on the phone as Rodney moved around.

"Oh. But you made it home okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Just fine. Even with all the stupid people in the airport."

John had to smile. "Did you get my message earlier?"

"Yeah, sorry. Carson was driving me crazy and I never got to call you."

"It's okay. I just got home myself. I went out surfing with Ronon when I got home, and then had dinner with him and Teyla. It was nice to see them again."

"Surfing," Rodney said with a quiet snort. "Are you sure you're not brain damaged?"

"It's a legitimate sport." John grinned into the phone. "What did you do when you got home?"

"One that will kill you in the long run, so right, great sport there," Rodney said clearing his throat and shifting again. John could hear the soft slide of fabric against the phone. "And nothing exciting. Cleaned out the fridge. Got food. Had dinner. Collapsed in bed before my brain started bleeding out of my ears."

"Yeah. I'm jet lagging in the worst way. I'll probably crash pretty soon though. I'm wiped."

"The meds knocked me on my ass. What time is it?"

John glanced at the clock. "Well, here it's 9pm. But I'm all the way on the west coast. Not sure what time zone you're in now."

"Damn. I've only been sleeping a few hours."

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. We can talk tomorrow."

"I'm up now," Rodney said with a huff. "You got home okay?"

"Yeah. It was a long flight, but nothing out of the ordinary. I miss you already."

"Yeah," Rodney said softly. "It's going to be a long three months."

"Very long..."

"Are you sure you don't want to come to Toronto?" Rodney asked quietly, but John could hear the longing in it.

He sighed. "I wish I could. But we talked about it. If we were to spend these three months together, there would be a lot of people who would accuse us of cheating or something. We have to finish Project Runway, then…maybe you could convince me to move. Or I could get you to come here."

"I know," Rodney said with his own weary sigh. "I just…" His words trailed off, but John knew how to fill in the blanks. Rodney had said it enough that morning when they were leaving.

"Yeah. Me, too."

"Three months is a long time."

"I know." John sighed. "I miss you already."

"Did you get those tests yet?"

"Tests?"

"The blood tests. You know, for…stuff."

"Oh. No, not yet. I just got home today. I'll call tomorrow and make the appointments. What about you? Only fair you know."

"Of course, but I know I'm clean. Carson took blood when I saw him this afternoon."

John chuckled. "Must be nice to have a friend who's a doctor. I'll go get mine done tomorrow."

"Sometimes," Rodney said with a sigh. "He's a downright nag usually."

"Yeah, but that's what friends are for."

"I guess." Rodney was silent for a few moments. "So. Everything okay at home?"

"Yeah. Ronon and Teyla kept my place aired out for me. Tomorrow I'm going to get the blood tests and then buckle down to start really narrowing down which ideas I want to produce for the collection. I don't want to leave this until the last minute. You?"

"I'll start working on everything in a few days, probably. I have some stuff here I need to do first."

"I miss you."

"I know. I miss you, too. Although, my ass remembers you quite well."

John grinned. "It's such a fine ass."

Rodney chuckled quietly. "You were quite fond of it—and no, I'm not complaining."

"Mmm. I can't wait to get my hands on it again."

"Hands, mouth, fingers, cock…"

"You're making me hard just thinking about it."

"Sorry," Rodney said softly. "I'm in no shape to get aroused by anything right now."

John yawned. "Yeah, I think I'm about to pass out myself."

"Okay. So…have a good night."

"You, too. Night."

"Night, John," Rodney said quietly as he hung up and John could almost picture himself there, lying next to him—just like he'd done the last week.

With a sigh, John put the phone down and went to bed. It was going to be a long three months.

***

Rodney threw his pencil down on the table, watching it bounce a few times before rolling of the end. He sighed, holding his head in his hands. He'd been working on this damn project for three weeks now and he still didn't have anything he was happy with.

And then there was the daydreaming. He'd find himself staring into space with a smile on his face. He'd been ignoring John's calls and emails the last few days in an effort to concentrate, but his daydreaming was only getting worse.

He was so screwed.

The phone chose that moment to ring. When the answering machine picked up, it was a familiar voice. "Hey. It's John. I guess... you don't want to talk. I.... Whatever I did, I'm sorry. If you change your mind... well, you know my number. Bye."

Rodney sighed, trying to rub away the ache in his chest every time he heard John's voice. He moved to his computer across the room, pulling up his email.

_John-_

_Sorry for not getting back to you. I've gotten nowhere with my designs and I've been trying to concentrate on the project without distractions. I'll call you in a few days._

_-Rodney_

He checked it over once and then hit send.

It was only a few minutes later that he got a reply.

_Oh, thank god. I thought you had decided you didn't want to be with me anymore. This makes more sense. Good luck, let me know if I can help. I'll be here when you're ready to talk again._

_–John_

He shot off a quick note of thanks and then shut down his email and computer, deciding to grab some lunch from the deli down the street. Maybe Carson would be around to chat, too.

He checked Kors' water and food before heading out, pausing at his friend's apartment door at the bottom of the stairs.

Inside, he could hear muttering. Carson liked to talk to himself sometimes.

"Hey, Carson, open up," he said, knocking on the door.

There was a sudden quiet, and then the door was opened to a smiling face. "Rodney, lad, I did'na expect to see you today."

"I needed to get out of the house," he said with a shrug.

Carson's expression got more serious. "Have you eaten yet, lad? I know how you get when you're in the middle of these projects."

"No, I was going to grab something at the deli. I stopped here on the way."

Carson clucked, but grabbed a light jacket from a chair and stepped out, closing and locking his door. "You canna forget to eat. You know how you get."

"I didn't forget," he said with a sniff. "I ate something when I got up. I'm just totally stuck. I've been stuck for three weeks, Carson."

They started walking. "Well, why don't you talk through the problem. Even if I canna help, just hearing it out loud might give you some insight into the issue."

Rodney sighed. "I can't concentrate."

"Okay, what's distracting you?"

"I keep daydreaming."

His friend blinked. "About your gentleman?"

Rodney nodded miserably. "John."

Carson chuckled. "I've never seen you so over the moon. It's a nice look. However, you're right, you canna let it become a hindrance."

"I sit down with my sketchbook and I start doing a design and then I start thinking back to New York and the week we spent together…" He sighed. "I've ignored his calls and emails the last few days and it hasn't helped."

"So work with it instead of against it. Why don't you base your collection on something you want to think about anyway? Maybe New York?"

"I can't base my design on John and his cock!"

Carson turned a light shade of red. "Rodney! I wasna suggesting that! I meant base it on the city, or something you did together."

"Yeah…that's not an option either."

Carson sighed. "What do you want to base your collection on then?"

Rodney sighed as they walked into the small deli. "I don't know. I can't concentrate long enough to figure it out either."

Carson shook his head. "I dinna know what to tell you then. You've got to find a way to get past this."

"I know. I know. It's almost as bad as the Andy thing."

"No, this is worse, and better. It's not an unhealthy obsession this time, but your feelings are strong enough, and you two are apart for long enough that you're going to have to find a way to focus yourself."

Rodney sighed, focusing on the menu board. "I just…I don't know."

"You're the only one who can figure it out. It's all about finding balance, lad."

"I know, I know." He stepped up to the counter and ordered a turkey and cheese sandwich—the same thing John always got and what he'd had for lunch every day for the last three weeks.

Carson ordered a roast beef sandwich, and when they got their orders, they found an empty booth. "Maybe you could try working somewhere else. Go to the park and sketch."

"It's like I can't get him out of my head. Even I don't need Kate telling me that it's not normal or healthy."

"Of course it is, when you're really in love and it's all new. Happens to everyone."

Rodney snorted, taking a bite of his sandwich. He chewed and swallowed. "But it's been three weeks. I need to get work done."

"Aye, but it's been three weeks apart after being together nonstop for the entire time you were on the show. Even if you were'na together the entire time, you still saw him everyday."

"I'm doomed."

"You're one of the most intelligent people I know. You'll think of something."

"All I can think of is John."

"So then base your collection on him."

"I can't…for obvious reasons," Rodney said, gesturing vaguely toward his crotch.

Carson just rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying to base it off of sex. There have to be other things about him you like."

"We had lots of sex and it was fantastic."

"Which is good, but we both know you can't base a relationship on sex alone. Focus on everything else you like about him."

"No, I can't."

"Why?"

"Dwelling on him more will not be good."

Carson shrugged. "Then I dinna know what to tell you."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes. Finally, Carson looked up. "So, I watched all the back seasons of Project Runway while you were gone. Will I get to meet Tim Gunn when he comes to visit you?"

Rodney sputtered. "You did what?"

Carson flushed a bit. "Well, I wanted to know more about this thing you were doing."

"It's a design contest. I didn't think you were all that interested in it, honestly. And my sister just thinks I'm insane."

"Well, it isna my cup of tea, but you're my friend. I wanted to know more about what you were doing."

"So. What did you think?"

"It's an interesting show. I can see how you could do well on it."

"I did do well on it," Rodney said, bristling a little. "I'm in the top four."

"Exactly. It seems to take the kind of person who can focus with chaos going on around them. You're that type of person."

"But I can't! That's the problem. I even had issues concentrating when I was there. I almost lost it all."

"But you didn't. You're in the final four."

"You won't believe what I went through. I can't say anything now, but…" Rodney shook his head. "I almost lost everything."

Carson gave him a hard look. "But you didn't lose. Not yet. Your biggest problem has always been trying to create a grand reason behind everything. At the end of the day, though, what happened or didn't happen doesna mean a darn thing. It's what you decide to do next that's important."

"Now you sound like Kate."

"Well, then she's a wise woman." He shrugged again.

Rodney huffed. "You would say that about a head shrinker you recommended."

Carson just smiled.

"I still can't believe they required me to go to her."

"And it's done you a world of good, hasn't it?"

"I didn't have to go to jail."

"You've also learned a lot about yourself, as well as how to deal with things that before would have made you batty."

"I guess," he said with another huff as he finished off his sandwich. He took a sip of his iced coffee to wash it down. "I just need to figure out what I'm going to design. I took pictures at the MET I should look at again."

"There you go. Instead of sitting around mooning and complaining, do something different. Get yourself out of your comfort zone a bit."

"I did the show, didn't I?"

"I know, but now you're falling back into your old ruts, and it's not working for you anymore. You learned a lot and changed while you were gone. You can't expect to go back to what you did before and have it work the same way."

"I didn't change."

"Aye, you did. Maybe you canna see it, but I do."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. "No office hours today?"

Carson shook his head. "I had a few errands to run, and it is Sunday. I figured even doctors need a day off now and again."

"It's Sunday?"

"Aye."

"How'd that happen?"

"Well, you see, the world turns, and each turn is a day..."

"Oh shut up."

Carson chuckled.

"That just means I'm even further behind."

"You just need to find the right inspiration."

Rodney sighed. "So. Are you busy this afternoon?"

"No. It is Sunday after all. You have something in mind?"

"Well, I have hundreds of pictures. Want to go through them with me?"

Carson made a face, but nodded. "Sure. I'm not sure how much help I'll be, but I'll come sit with you."

"Maybe you'll see something I don't."

Carson nodded. "Sure."

"You know, if it's not too much trouble."

Carson rolled his eyes. "Of course it's not. I just don't know how much help I'll be. But I will help."

"Okay," Rodney said with a nod, standing up abruptly. "Is now okay?"

Carson blinked, but stood up. "Of course."

"I've already lost weeks," he said, moving to the garbage to throw out the remains of his lunch. "I need to get moving."

"I still think you need to try something different." Carson followed him out the door.

"I am. I'm dragging you to my apartment."

His friend chuckled. "We should open up the windows, too. It's a nice day. The fresh air will help."

"I have allergies. Fresh air will kill me."

"No, it won't. I'm your doctor, remember?"

"Voodoo witch doctor," Rodney grumbled as they headed back to the apartment.

"And yet you keep coming back to me."

"You actually listen to me. My last doctors refused to let me book appointments, which I think is very unprofessional of them."

Carson laughed quietly. "Well, living down the hall from you does help in that regard."

"You're my landlord and my doctor. I don't know if that's a healthy relationship or not."

"What does it matter? I actually like you, and I keep you healthy."

Rodney snorted. "You keep me healthier than the other quacks I used to go to. I'll give you that."

"Because I've got a talent for separating your real complaints from just bitching."

"I do not bitch."

"Of course you do, lad. It's part of your charm."

Rodney snorted as they wandered back into their apartment building and to Rodney's place. He unlocked the door, leading Carson around piles of crap he'd managed to spread everywhere. "Just watch your step."

"Goodness gracious! No wonder you canna get anything done. This place is a disaster."

"It's…" he waved his hand a little absently. "It is what it is."

"It's a disaster. We're going to start by straightening things up a bit and sorting it."

"I don't have time to clean," Rodney whined, but Carson was having none of it. He had already managed to get one of his living room windows open.

"This mess is why you canna thing straight. It will take you less time to help than it will to fight about it."

"Damn slave driver! I asked you here to look at pictures, not give commentary on the state of my apartment." Of course, Rodney's cat was happy with Carson, twining around his feet before jumping up onto the sill of the opened window.

"No, you asked me here to help you figure out where you inspiration was. I'm telling you, it's buried under all the mess."

"Fine," Rodney said, stomping over toward the couch to pull off a few empty bags of Cheetos.

It took them the better part of two hours to clean everything, but even Rodney had to admit to himself, when it was done, that the place felt better.

As he tied the last garbage bag, he looked up at Carson. "Can we look at pictures now?"

"Of course." Carson sat down, and they started to sort through all the photos.

It took most of the rest of the afternoon before they finally settled on a few pictures. They were some of the same Frank Lloyd Wright designs he'd been inspired with for his last challenge.

"I think these are really the way to go. I can see it in your eyes. You perk up, and you get that light that says your brain is starting to turn."

"I like some of the structure in this," he said, his finger tracing a line.

Carson nodded, and handed over a sketch pad. "Show me what you see."

"Wait, you just expect me to just…draw something?"

"It doesn't have to be anything recognizable. I want you to show me the lines you see."

Rodney sighed shaking his head, but he took the pad and pencil and started sketching. Ten minutes later he shoved the pad back to Carson, a complete design scrawled on the once-empty page.

Carson nodded. "I like it. Now show me what you see in this one." He handed over another photo.

"Carson…" he whined.

"You asked for my help, so you've got to live with how I give it. Now sketch."

Rodney grumbled, but obeyed, examining the picture for several minutes before starting a new drawing. This one was longer and merged into a pants outfit of sorts. He shoved the book at Carson twenty minutes later.

And he got another picture and another order to sketch.

At some point when he was sketching, Carson got up and made them dinner—a pot luck stew of sorts. Rodney didn't even know he had fresh food in his apartment. By the time he had finished ten sketches it was nearly midnight.

Yawning, Carson stretched. "So, does this give you the start you were looking for?"

"I…" Rodney looked around at all the sketches, nodding slowly. "I need to find fabric in the right colors, but…I think maybe. Yeah."

"Good." Carson smiled. "Then I'm going to bed. It's late, and I have to be in the office tomorrow. Get some sleep, then pick up in the morning."

"Yes, yes," Rodney said, waving him off. He wandered around his apartment for a while, looking at his sketches, holding them at different angles and fixing a few things here or there. He grabbed the phone at some point, dialing a number he already knew by heart.

"'llo?"

"Oh crap. It's late isn't it? What time is it by you?"

"Uhhhh..." There was a pause, and some scrambling. "It's about midnight. Why are you still up? It's gotta be what, 4am there?"

"Something like that, what does it matter? I'm calling you back like I said I would."

"Mmm. Found your inspiration?"

"Carson was a slave driver."

"Good. Need to meet him."

"He likes sheep, talks with a weird accent, and tends to hover. See. Now you know everything you need to know about him."

John's sleepy laugh danced over Rodney's senses.

"Sorry about…you know, ignoring you."

"S'ok. I just wish you would have told me why from the beginning. I thought it was your way of saying you were done."

"John, no…I wouldn't…" Rodney said, dropping into his comfy chair.

"Good. Me neither."

Rodney let the silence build for a few beats. "I was obsessing again."

"About what?"

"You."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Rodney sighed. "Carson tried to convince me to create a collection based on you, but I couldn't do that. Besides, I didn't think anyone wanted to see an ode to your cock."

John laughed again. "I'm flattered."

"I was daydreaming about it…and you, by the very nature of the body part."

John's laugh was warm. "I like that."

"I have to be careful with that, though. You know, because of the whole focus thing."

"Still. I like that I'm on your mind."

"I can't wait until this whole thing is done. The stupid collection, the finale show, everything. I just want to…move on."

"Who knew we'd actually be ready for the Project to be over?"

"I know," Rodney said with a sigh, getting tired all of a sudden. "So…you're okay?"

"Yeah, pretty good. I've made a start on pretty much all of my designs, but nothing finished yet. Surfing. Missing you. That sort of thing."

"Yeah, I know." Rodney was silent for a long moment, thinking back to New York and listening to the hum of the open phone line. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'm glad you did. I'd rather talk to you than sleep."

"Well, there are other things I'd rather be doing than sleeping and talking isn't usually one of them. Not at this time of night."

John's laugh turned sensual. "If you were here, I'd be stroking you cock right now. Maybe licking the tip."

"Oh god," Rodney said, his cock making an attempt to twitch to life, but it was having no part of this conversation. He was too tired for sex. How pathetic was that? "This isn't fair."

"Mmm. But think how good it will be when we do get to have sex again. It will be mind-blowing."

"I want to have phone sex with you now, but my body refuses to cooperate."

"Hmm, how about we plan for phone seduction tomorrow? Pick a time when you'll be free, and I want you to run a bath and light candles. Turn off all the lights, slip into the water, and then call me."

"You can't plan phone sex."

"I didn't say phone sex. I said phone seduction. Seductions can be spontaneous, but all the good ones are planned."

"How does that even make sense?"

"Just trust me."

"I do, but it still doesn't make sense."

"It makes sense to me. Just do what I asked, and then call me tomorrow evening. I'll be here."

Rodney sighed, letting his head fall back against the chair. "Fine."

"Meanwhile, tomorrow, think about how you'll be naked with me on the phone."

"I'm not going to be naked with anyone other than myself," Rodney grumbled.

"You'll be with me."

"No. I'll be talking to you on the phone. It's different."

"You've never had real phone sex before, have you?"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Is there supposed to be a right answer to that question?"

"No, just curious."

"No."

"I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

Rodney wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he let it go. "I should probably let you get back to sleep."

"Yeah, you should probably go get some. Long day tomorrow."

"I have to go shopping for fabric."

"Exactly."

"I wish there was a Mood here."

"God, tell me about it. I had to hit up no less than ten fabric stores to get everything I wanted."

"Oh, great. Tomorrow's going to be a nightmare."

"Just keep calm. If one shop doesn't have what you need, you can find another. And worse comes to worse, you can email me a description of what you're looking for, and I'll see if I can find it here and overnight it to you."

"This is going to be a nightmare," Rodney said with a sigh that turned into a loud yawn.

"Go to bed. Everything looks better after a good night of sleep."

"God, I hope so."

"Night, Rodney."

"Night, John," Rodney said, listening to John breathe for a few seconds before pulling the phone away from his ear and disconnecting. He threw it on the couch and let out a long breath, the breath exiting out of his mouth almost sounding like John's name. Almost.

***

John stood in what had once been a living room, and surveyed his work.

Garments and fabric and bits and bobs were everywhere. And Tim Gunn was going to be there in no less than two days.

Shit.

Not for the first time, he wished he wasn’t such a stubborn bastard. If he would actually use the trust fund money he had been given, he could hire a cleaning service. But that would be too much like giving in. So instead, John stood in the middle of the wreckage and wondered where he should even start.

Honestly, it was a little too much to comprehend. Maybe if he just shoved stuff in closets and under the couch and bed…

A knock on his door got him at least moving, wading through everything between him and the door.

When the open door revealed Teyla in her oldest clothing and her hair up in an elastic band of sorts that defied gravity and physics the way most woman's things did in a way he couldn’t even begin to understand, he almost kissed her on the mouth. Hard.

"I'm beginning to believe you're really an angel, here on Earth to make sure the rest of us don't fuck it up too badly."

"You sounded…distressed yesterday. I thought I would offer to assist you today. You have been working very hard."

"Thank you." He gave her a hug." I... I have the pieces I think I want to show Tim as part of the final looks sorted out, but the rest..."

"Let us clean out the main rooms to better showcase the garments you have created," she said as he stepped inside, her eyes going a little wide.

John rubbed the back of his neck. "The problem is that I don't want to get rid of any of this, I just don't know where to put any of it. It's all good fabric and parts... And there's still a lot left to do on my collection, so I don't want to get to the end to discover I don't have what I need."

"Then we need to organize it."

"Yeah. That's where I kind of got stuck."

"Then I shall do it for you." Teyla was a hard taskmaster, demanding answers in that oh so polite tone of voice. But a few hours later and there were organized piles of material, carefully stored so he could still access them.

They had even run to the store to get some plastic bin organizers, and all his buttons and embellishments were neatly organized too. "I don't think my apartment has ever looked this good."

"We are not yet finished."

"We're not?" John looked around. "But we're done."

"No, we are not. Your fabric is organized, but this apartment is covered in dust and sand."

He looked around. "It's lived in..."

"It is filthy and I will not have you appearing on national television in this place."

He flushed. "Ahh, well, when you put it that way..."

"People will see this show. Important people. Do you wish them to think that you are not the professional I know you are?"

"No, you're right." He sighed. "I'll go get the cleaning stuff. And you and Ronon are coming over that night for dinner, right? I want Tim to meet you guys."

Teyla nodded as if to say, 'Of course I'm right'. "Only if you wish us to. We do not want to intrude on your time with Tim."

"No, I want you here. He'll be here at four to talk about the collection, and then I'm thinking if you guys come over at five, we can make dinner."

"Should you not have dinner already prepared for when he arrives? Or do you wish to go to a local restaurant? I believe Travelers will be open that night."

"Ooo, Travelers... Think we can get reservations?"

"Of course. I'm sure Larrin would be delighted to have you there."

John nodded. "I'll call her now, while I'm thinking about it. Give me a minute, then I'll grab the cleaning supplies."

"I will begin dusting," Teyla said, digging into her own bucket of cleaning paraphernalia.

John grabbed the phone, and ten minutes later, he had reservations at the best table in the house. That, and an earful from Larrin about why he hadn't been to see her in months. She almost sounded…annoyed about it, too. But no matter. If he didn’t start helping Teyla soon, she would hurt him.

It took another couple of hours to finish up, and John was amazed at the difference. "I don't think this place has ever looked this good."

"It does not take much to maintain a place of dwelling in this state," she said, smiling a little threateningly.

"Ahhh..."

"A few minutes each day to straighten up is all it requires. I do not wish to see it again in the state it was in."

"But... when I'm working... and I only have another six weeks to finish my collection!"

"You cannot work effectively in chaos."

"I just can't stop in the middle of my process to clean. I could lose the train of the idea!"

"Do you shower and eat each day?"

"Well, I try to shower..."

"You must make the time. Ten minutes each morning to straighten up will prevent this…" Her hand waved around the room. "…this chaos from taking over."

John sighed. "Teyla, I don't even eat regularly. What makes you think I'll remember to clean?"

"It is good for you," she said, moving toward him and putting her hand on his arm. "If you live and work in chaos, you life is chaotic. Peace is more than just in your mind. It must be all around you."

"I know, and I agree with you, but..." John fingered one of his half-completed designs. "I'm... worried. This is my last chance. What if it's not good enough? I don't have to win, but what if I don't get a job or an offer out of this show? What am I supposed to do then? I feel like I have to devote everything I have to this collection, since it feels like my last shot."

"You are very talented, John. You will do well—no matter the outcome of this contest. It may seem like it is all or nothing, but other doors will open for you if this one shuts. I guarantee it."

He sighed. "I keep telling myself that, but... it's hard sometimes."

"Just have faith, John. I do."

He gave her a small smile. "That's what Rodney keeps telling me, too."

"So then it must be true. No?"

"Maybe." He smiled. "So…now that the place is clean, let me take you to dinner."

"I will be joining you tomorrow. I already have plans for tonight, but thank you for your kindness and the offer. I'm sure you can…find someone else to dine with."

He chuckled. "Probably, although odds are good I'll start working again. All of this has given me some ideas I want to get on paper before I lose them."

"Do not work too hard tonight that you forget to call your Rodney," Teyla said with a smile as she packed up her supplies.

"I won't. I can't wait for you to meet him."

"And when will that be?"

"After the show is over. We decided seeing each other while we're working on our collections could be taken the wrong way. Neither of us wants to jeopardize the other's chances. But after this is over, all bets are off."

"And yet you speak every day."

"Yeah. We probably shouldn't but…I just can't go without talking to him."

She smiled fondly at him. "I know you will do what is right."

"Once the show is over, I want to go up to Canada to meet some of his friends, and he wants to come here to meet you guys. It's going to be awesome."

"I shall wait until that time, then. I will leave you to your designing. Have a good night and do not worry so much about tomorrow. It will be fine."

Once Teyla left, John sat down at his table and pulled out the sketches for his collection, making a few modifications and adding scribbles in the margins for different directions he could go with it. It would be interesting to see what Tim said tomorrow.

Time flew by the rest of the day until his growling stomach finally pushed him to stop working.

He whipped up something quick, and then settled down on the couch to eat and call Rodney.

It rang four times and John thought it was going to go to voice mail, but the call was finally picked up. It wasn't Rodney who answered, though.

"Hello?"

"Um. Hi. Is Rodney there?"

"Who's this?" she asked with a vaguely Canadian accent.

"John. Who's this?"

"John who?"

"Sheppard. Is Rodney there? I know this is his cell phone number."

"And where do you know him from?"

"Um, no offence to whomever you are, but I don't give out Rodney's personal information to people I don't know."

"I’m certain Rodney doesn't know anyone in your area code. Where are you anyway? California? It doesn't matter. I'm sure he doesn't want to talk to you. So have a nice day." The phone clicked off two seconds later, leaving John with a dial tone.

"What the hell..." John stared at his phone. And then re-dialed.

The woman—whoever she was—picked up after two rings. "I thought I just told you that Rodney doesn't want to talk to you and he doesn't know who you are. If he owes you money, I’m sure he'll get it to you sooner or later, when he finally gets a job. If that's all, I'm hanging up again."

"As a matter of fact, I'm his boyfriend, and I'd really appreciate it if you would tell me who you are, why you're answering his phone, and where the hell Rodney is."

The woman laughed loudly. "Boyfriend? Yeah, right. He doesn't have a boyfriend. Hasn't had one in years."

John gritted his teeth. "Look, whoever you are, you're presuming a lot answering his phone and being rude to his callers. Please put Rodney on so I can talk to him."

"No, I don't think so."

"Why, afraid to be proven wrong?"

"First, I've known Rodney all of his life and I know him better than you do—not that you even know him although you claim to be his boyfriend. Secondly, Rodney doesn't date. He stopped that after he fucked up the last two so-called relationships he had. Thirdly, Rodney's not here so stop calling."

"He didn't fuck up his relationships, he just had someone who didn't appreciate him, so stop bad-mouthing him." John was starting to get angry. "He's an amazing guy and he doesn't deserve that kind of crap from anyone who claims to know him. He might be temperamental, but that's part of his charm."

"Yeah, right, sure," she said, her tone dismissive. "Look. I have better things to do than talk to you. I have to find his damn cat in this pigsty so I’m hanging up now."

"If you hurt Kors, I will fly up there and kick your ass."

There was a pause before she continued. "You know his cat?"

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know his cat. I talk to him every single fucking night, and I have a picture of him and Kors as my screen saver on my computer. He's a black cat with white spots on his face. Rodney is my boyfriend and lover, and I really want to know who you are that you're in his house, answering his phone, and terrorizing his cat."

"I'm not terrorizing his damn cat. I'm trying to feed it, but it went into hiding this morning and won't come out."

"Probably because you keep calling him a damn cat. I'd hide, too. Where is Rodney? When I talked to him yesterday, he didn't mention going anywhere or having anyone over. And you still haven't told me who you are."

She sighed heavily. "I'm his sister, Jeannie, whom he woke up at four in the morning because he decided he needed to go to New York to buy fabric today. I had to re-arrange my work schedule—again—to take care of his damn cat when he spent the last two hundred dollars he had on a train ticket."

John blinked. "Damn it. I told him to send me the list of what he needed and I'd look for him here."

"He booked a ticket on Amtrak last night at two in the morning and packed. He said I should be grateful to him that he waited two hours to call me. I have a family! A job! I have responsibilities. He doesn't understand and never will. As you can see, he left his phone here. He'll be back in two days—give or take. That is if he remembers when his return train is."

John fretted. "I know he really thought he needed to go to Mood to get what he needed, but he doesn't have time to re-do his whole collection. Not now."

"Well, he should be getting into Penn Station soon. A fourteen hour train ride for fabric! Twenty-eight hours round trip. He really has no clue sometimes."

"This is Project Runway! The chance of a lifetime. You get it right, or you go home. Tim Gunn will be up to see him in a week, and he needs to have everything ready for his visit."

"Whatever. Look. I have to find and feed his cat and the battery is dying on his phone. No surprise there. He spends money on a train ticket and leaves me no food to feed the damn cat he asked me to watch. Call him in two days. He should be back then."

"If you talk to him, tell him to call me."

"I doubt I will. He only calls when he needs something."

"Just tell him to call John."

"I'll leave him a note. Not that he'll be able to find it in his mess he calls an apartment."

"Thanks."

A second later and the phone disconnected.

John sighed. He hoped Rodney didn't muddy his own designs with over-thinking.

The next twelve hours were a nightmare. He barely slept or ate as he stressed and fretted about Rodney and Tim and this whole damn contest.

Finally though, John had to take a deep breath. Tim would be here soon, and he needed to focus.

Everything was still neat. Ronon and Teyla were meeting them at five for dinner. The camera crew had already arrived and set up the lights and cameras and whatnot.

John fluttered around, fiddling with his design sketches and what he had completed of his garments, worrying about what Tim would think of it all.

"Relax," one of the techs said. "You'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," John mumbled. "He might hate this. I might have to start all over!"

"Compared to what we saw last week, you're leaps ahead. You'll be fine."

"Oh?"

"We were down state last week and I have to say that collection was a train wreck. I mean it was so bad you couldn't turn away."

"Whose collection was that?"

"Ah…Lorne." He checked a sheet of paper he pulled out of his back pocket. "We still have to see McKay and Zelenka."

Huh. John wondered what Lorne was doing if the crew thought it was that bad. It would be interesting to see once they all got back to New York.

"Relax and be yourself."

A knock at the door signaling Tim's arrival nearly sent John into a panic attack, but he pulled it together and went to answer the door.

"John!" Tim said with a broad smile. "It is so good to see you. And what beautiful weather you have here."

John found himself smiling despite his nerves. "One of the reasons I love this part of California. Come on in!"

"Well, you certainly have a prime location. You are right on the beach. Do you surf a lot?"

"Oh, yeah. My friend Ronon—whom you'll meet tonight—and I go all the time. Teyla, Ronon's girlfriend and one of my best friends—who will also be at dinner later—is always chiding us for being on the beach more than anywhere else."

Tim laughed. "I can't wait to meet them, but right now I want to see your collection. Show me what you have!"

John led him over to where he had set up a rack with all his finished pieces, as well as a table with the various sketches.

"Oh wow. This is lovely," Tim said, reaching for one of the really light and flowy gowns. "Tell me about this."

"Well, my goal with this collection is to evoke all the different moods of the sea. I spend a lot of time there, and it's a great source of inspiration. This one is meant to show the playful side of the waves that surfers take advantage of."

"I can see that. The seaming here is brilliant," he said, pointing to the garment. He moved on a beat later. "But this…John, what are you thinking?"

John made a face. "That's my... fickle sea piece. I'm having a hard time getting it just right." John pulled out some of his sketches. "This is what I'm going for, but I can't seem to translate it into fabric just yet. I want it to be something changeable, you wear it one way and it's a lighter, more flirty piece, and then reverse it and it's darker, more moody."

Tim put his hand on his chin, finger tapping against his lips. "You might want to reconsider this. There's a lot going on and I'm not sure it's really what you want to say."

Nodding, John set his sketch aside. "It's the one giving me the most trouble right now, I admit. I might scrap it and start over, but I really like the way it looks in my head. I just wish I could make that come out in the fabric."

"I'm sure you can do it, but you might want to take a step back and really think about it."

"I will." John smiled.

Tim walked through the rest of his designs, talking with him about each one. John was surprised how much time Tim actually spent on his designs, really mentoring him and challenging him on every choice he'd made. You didn't see all of this on television.

By the time they had gone all the way through the collection, John felt like he really had a good idea of where he wanted to take this collection to get it to the next level, as well as how to get there. A weight he hadn't realized he'd been carrying seemed to lift, and his excitement over the show and the collection was able to bubble to the surface again.

"So you had said something about dinner?" Tim said.

John nodded. "I made reservations at a great local restaurant, and two of my closest friends, Teyla and Ronon, are going to meet us there."

"Well, I'm looking forward to meeting them," he said with a smile.

The restaurant was in walking distance, so they made their way there. John spotted his friends and waved them over.

"And you must be Tim Gunn," Teyla said as soon as she was close, a brilliant smile on her face. "It is such a pleasure to meet you."

Tim smiled. "A pleasure to meet you as well. John has told me quite a bit about both of you."

"Oh, has he?" Teyla said, shooting John a teasing look. "Well, he has told us equal amounts about you, as well."

John found himself blushing as they all walked in and got seated.

Dinner went smoothly. Teyla kept the conversation moving and Larrin made sure the food and wine were flowing. By the time the night was done, John was more relaxed and happy than he had been in a while. The only thing that would have made the day better would have been if Rodney were there to share it with him.

But, unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen for another few months. He just needed to convince Rodney to move to California.

That would be a very interesting conversation, to say the least.

***

Rodney wasn't sure what to do with himself. After that horrible three-day trip to New York a month ago which ended up being nearly a week long—with no cell phone—things seemed to have only gone downhill.

He'd been frantically working on his garments, but the material wasn't right. Nothing was working right. And to top it off, he'd been forced to start working part-time at a nearby bookstore to make ends meet, his time at work eating into what little time he had left to create his garments.

He had two mostly finished, but he had to finish eight more in the next three weeks. He was never going to get done.

And what was worse was talking to John who was just gushing about his collection every time they were on the phone. Rodney didn't have the heart to tell him to stop even though he hated hearing about it.

And then there was Tim. Tim was coming today and Rodney didn't have one thing planned. He'd honestly forgotten. But when the camera crews had shown up early that morning to get some establishing shots and whatnot, he'd freaked out a little, manically cleaning the apartment.

He was so screwed.

When Tim finally knocked at the door, Rodney was almost at the point of just giving up.

He took a deep breath and opened the door to his dusty and hastily straightened apartment. "Tim. Hi."

Tim smiled. "Rodney! So good to see you again!"

"Ah…yeah. Good to see you. Do you want to come in?"

"Yes, please. I'm dying to see what you've been working on."

"I know you're not going to be impressed, but ah, I guess I should let you make your own judgment," he said, stepping aside to let Tim and the camera crew in.

He led Tim over to his work area. "All right, tell me about it."

"My pieces were inspired by the structure and design from many of the Frank Lloyd Wright and Tiffany works in the MET. These two garments are more or less completed."

"I love what you're doing here. The structure on these is beautiful."

"Thanks," he said, ducking his head. He pulled out the rest of his sketches, using the time to compose himself. "These are the rest of the design I'm working on."

"I like where you're headed with this. So tell me what's been giving you problems."

Rodney shrugged. "It just…" He waved his hand in the air. "I don't think I can do this. I have too much to do and not enough time."

"I've seen you create more with less time. Let's sit down and you can tell me about the problems you've been having. Maybe I can offer some advice that will help."

"I doubt it," Rodney said, but gestured Tim over to the couch, the cameras following behind.

They sat and talked for the better part of three hours. Tim helped him walk through the collection and really identify the areas he was struggling with, and why he was having those problems.

It helped, but it also made the problem seem even more insurmountable. Rodney was grateful, in a way, when Carson barged in. "What's with all the vans outside? I can'na barely park in my own—"

Tim stood up. "Well, hello. You must be one of Rodney's friends. I was hoping to meet a few."

"Oh," Carson said, looking a little dumbstruck. "You're Tim Gunn."

Tim smiled and took Carson's hand, shaking it. "I am. And you are?"

"You're Tim Gunn."

Tim laughed. "I'm guessing Rodney didn't tell you I was coming today. I'm here to take a look at his collection, offer some advice, and meet his friends."

Carson blinked up at Tim and then turned to Rodney. "Why in the bloody hell didn't you say something, ye git?"

Tim laughed again, as did some of the camera men. Tim steered Carson to sit down on the couch with them.

"Bloody Tim Gunn," Carson was muttering as he sat down.

"Rodney, I really do think you're on the right track here, you're just over-thinking things. Take a step back and identify the things you really love about your designs, and focus on those. Leave the rest of it alone, and it will all come together beautifully."

"He's always over thinking things," Carson said with a nod.

"Exactly. He's got the bones of a great collection here, but he needs to use an editing eye, and trust his instincts. They're good."

"You do know I'm in the room," Rodney said with a scowl.

Carson nodded. "Aye. You still havena told me why you didna mention Tim Gunn was going to be here today."

"I forgot."

Tim laughed again.

"What? I did. I only remembered because the camera guys showed up this morning."

"That's all right, Rodney." Tim patted his knee. "You've had your mind on other things."

Rodney's cat wandered out a few moments later, picking its way among the wires and people as Kors headed for the kitchen and his food. "Other things or not, I don't have a lot of time to finish this collection."

"You have plenty of time. I have faith in you, Rodney." Tim smiled at him. "Have faith in yourself."

"Well," Rodney said, after a moment of silence. "We should probably get something for dinner. I should have planned something, but I didn't."

"That's all right, Rodney. I don't expect you to have to entertain me. Why don't you take me to your favorite local place to eat?"

Rodney smiled a little ruefully. "That's usually at Carson's."

Carson rolled his eyes. "We'll go to Isabella's down the road. They have excellent food there, and there's never a wait."

"Are you sure? Isn't that the place that tried to serve me lemon chicken?"

"No, that was another restaurant. I've never taken you into Isabella's because it's my favorite restaurant and I don't want to get banned from coming back."

"Oh." Rodney glanced at Tim. "Then maybe we shouldn't go there."

Tim stood up, smiling. "It sounds wonderful. I'm sure there won't be any problems."

"You don't know that. Trouble always seems to find me," Rodney said as he rose to his feet, following Carson to the door.

"Only because you can't seem to relate to people with any kind of grace. I still canna believe this John of yours is still talking to you."

"John?" Tim asked, looking at Carson and Rodney with narrowed eyes. "John Sheppard?"

Carson nodded, oblivious to Rodney's attempts to shush him. "I think that's his name. I havena met him, but he and Rodney talk every day. This is the longest relationship our Rodney has ever had that didn't turn weird. I'm looking forward to meeting this John."

Rodney paused to bang his head against the wall a few times.

Tim looked at him. "You and John are still in contact with one another?"

"We're friends," Rodney said quietly.

Tim nodded slowly. "That's fine, I just don't want either of you to jeopardize your positions in the competition."

"I haven’t seen him since we were in New York."

"So you've only been talking on the phone. And neither of you has seen the other's collection?"

"No. Nothing. All I know if that John's really excited about what he's working on and he's almost finished."

Tim relaxed a bit. "Good. You are both very talented designers, and I wouldn't want your chances to be sabotaged after all the hard work you've both done."

Rodney nodded. "So…dinner?" he asked a little weakly.

Dinner was surprisingly good—no one even tried to kill him with citrus. Rodney, though, was happy when all the cameras were finally gone, and he could actually sit down to think about some of the things Tim had suggested. It was good advice, and he knew Tim and Carson were right—if he could just get started, he could finish this collection. He hoped.

He was dozing on the couch when the phone rang, jarring him.

John's voice was on the other line. "Hey there, sexy."

"Oh, hey," Rodney said, straightening up a little.

"So how did it go?"

"What go?"

"Tim Gunn? Today was his day to visit you, wasn't it?"

"How do you know that?"

"What do you mean? He had a schedule. I assumed your day was today. Wasn't it?"

"It was," Rodney said with a sigh. "I didn't remember it was, though. That's the problem."

"Oh." John paused. "So it didn't go well?"

"Well, I almost got us in trouble because Carson couldn't keep his trap shut."

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently, we're not supposed to be talking or communicating."

"We don't know anything about each other's collections, so it shouldn't matter."

"I hope it won't be a problem," Rodney said with a sigh. "So…you're okay?"

"Yeah. Today was a really good day, actually. I'm pretty much done, I think. I wish I could come out there and help you now."

"You can't."

"I know. Think of me as your long-distance cheerleader instead."

Rodney snorted. "As if you've ever gone near a pom-pom."

"If I had, I wouldn't be able to talk about it. I'm not the kiss and tell kind of guy."

"Sure. That's what they always say."

John's laugh went straight to Rodney's groin. Rodney adjusted himself, shifting a little uncomfortably in the chair.

"So. Just a few more weeks, and then we'll see each other again."

"And it'll be absolute madness."

"Yeah. But we'll be able to see each other."

"I know," Rodney said with a soft sigh, his eyes sliding back to his designs. "I don't think I'm going to finish."

"You will. Just buckle down and get it done. You're a good designer. Trust your instincts."

"That hasn't worked so well for me in the past."

"Yes, it has. It got you this far in the contest, didn't it?"

Rodney sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and he suck deeper into his chair. "You know we can go round and round on this for hours."

"So stop arguing with me about it, and just design."

"I should go to bed. I have to go to work in the morning. I should be able to do something tomorrow night."

"Okay."

"At least the bookstore is quiet. It lets me think."

"Good." John sighed. "Stop doubting yourself. Just work, and trust your designs."

Rodney snorted quietly. "I should go."

"Okay. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Night."

"Night, John," Rodney said quietly, pulling the phone away from his ear and stabbing the end button. He let out a long breath as he stared at his clothes. He had a few weeks left to finish everything. He couldn't work and do this. He couldn't. It was killing him. Maybe it was time to ask Carson for help—again. He hated it, but it might be the only way he could have a passing chance to actually show something good in Bryant Park.

He sighed again.

He'd figure it out tomorrow.

***

Arrival day back in New York was insane.

As soon as he arrived, John was ushered into the workroom where he could get his clothes pulled out of their shipping containers and take care of anything that got wrinkled in transit.

It looked like he was the last one there, the other three workstations already were full of crap—clothes and sewing kits and lots of notions. He was completely finished—apart from the usual adjustments he knew he'd have to make on the girls.

The next few days were going to be hellish he knew. There was a model selection session tomorrow morning and then fittings in the afternoon. He hoped he got the models he needed.

He had decided he wanted a certain look for each of the outfits, rather than a "type" of model the go throughout the show. He wondered which of the collections was Rodney's.

Before he could really start poking around, the production assistant who had driven him to Parsons was back, reminding him that he had to go. There was a dinner in their apartment that night.

With a sigh, he followed her out, making a mental list of everything that would need to be done tomorrow.

The car took him to a different part of the city, pulling up in front of the Hyatt. He followed the production assistant to the reception desk, vaguely paying attention until a small card folder was shoved in his hand and he was pushed to the elevator.

Thankfully one of the doormen was there to guide him because after the long flight to the East Coast and this hectic rushing around since he got to New York, he was exhausted.

He stumbled into the room, not paying attention to anything.

Evan spotted him first, rising from the couch in the huge—oh my god! absolutely fucking huge—living room. "Sheppard! You made it. We weren't sure when you were coming in."

"Hey!" John stepped forward and gave him a big hug.

"It's good to see you, man. How was your flight in?"

"Long." John gave him a wry smile. "I'm wiped out. How about you?"

"I flew in yesterday. Wanted to be ready to compete."

"I don't blame you. I'm wishing I had done the same thing now."

"Rodney and Radek are in here somewhere," Evan said, gesturing around. "I think Rodney claimed the two upstairs bedrooms for you two."

John grinned. "Thanks. I'll go see if I can find them and say hi before I pass out."

"Actually, dinner should be showing up soon. Something about a catered thing. So don't get too comfortable. The cameramen are setting up already."

John groaned. "I just want to pass out! I'm not hungry!"

"Tim is coming, so you might want to stay awake."

"Damn. I can't get out of it then." John rubbed at his eyes. "I don't suppose there's caffeine anywhere?"

Evan snorted. "There've been pots of coffee brewing all day. McKay's here so you know there's some—if you can wrestle it away from him."

"I'll take my chances." John laughed as he headed for the kitchen.

John made himself a big mug of coffee before he headed upstairs—holy crap! this was really the penthouse suite—dragging his suitcase up the stairs.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" came the reply and a fuzzy-haired head popped out of a bedroom down the hall. "John! You have made it!"

"Radek!" John stepped forward to give him a hug, careful of the hot coffee.

"Go put suitcase down," he said, gesturing to the room John had passed, "then come back. Rodney is…currently indisposed. Yes?"

"I haven't seen him yet. Which room is his?"

"This one," Radek said. "I am in downstairs bedroom. As is Evan. Rodney had staked out claim upstairs even before we arrived."

John laughed. "So that room is mine? Where is Rodney? I want to say hi."

Radek sighed, his face darkening. "He has locked himself in bathroom. Perhaps you can assist?"

John blinked. "That's not good. Which bathroom? I'll see if I can find out what's going on."

"Go drop suitcase. Rodney not going anywhere."

John quickly put his suitcase on one of the beds, and then headed for Rodney's room.

Radek was standing outside of the closed bathroom—John assumed—door. "…have to come out eventually. You keep telling us you have issues with blood sugar. I am not feeding you Power Bars under door."

"Hey, Rodney." John stepped up to the door.

"Go away," Rodney answered, sounding a little more on edge than he had the last few days.

"What's wrong?"

"He has been manic since we arrived," Radek said answering with a shrug. "He is convinced he will not make Bryant Park. They are only showing three of us so we are certain there is one last challenge."

"Well, there's always a last challenge, but he's one of the ones who has a guaranteed spot. I thought you and Evan were competing for the third spot."

"As did I, but when Rodney gets thing in head…" Radek trailed off with a knowing look.

John sighed. He was tired and they all needed to focus, but Rodney had been working himself up to this for weeks now. "Rodney, come out of the bathroom. Doing this to yourself is as good as saying you're giving up. Is that what you want? To just throw in the towel and give up after all this?"

"He has been ignoring me for most of afternoon. I will leave you to talk sense to him. Perhaps blow-job will help." Radek offered a teasing smile as he headed out, closing the door behind him.

John shook his head and grinned.

He tried talking to Rodney again through the door, but when the Canadian refused to reply, John decided he was too tired to play this game. He eyeballed the doorknob and then pawed through Rodney's stuff to find the tools he needed to pop the lock. Less than a minute later, the door swung open and he spotted Rodney leaning against the tub—of course Rodney picked the master suite—knees pulled up to his chest.

John walked over a sat down next to him on the floor. "Hey, buddy. Talk to me."

Rodney didn't answer, but instead turned toward John, leaning against him.

Wrapping his arms around the other man, John pulled him closer. "It's going to be all right. You just have to hold it together a little longer, and then we'll be done."

"I'm so tired," Rodney said quietly. "I…I don't know if I can do it anymore."

"You can. You've got it in you. Don't throw it all away now, when you're so close."

"I don't know if I care anymore," Rodney said, shifting again, his arm snaking around John's waist, holding on.

"You do care. If you give up now, you'll always regret it."

"No…won't…" Rodney said softly. John could feel his friend's body getting heavier. The last thing he needed was for Rodney to fall asleep like this before dinner.

"Hey." John shook him a bit. "You will. Please, if you won't do it for yourself, do it for me. Keep fighting."

"You're comfy."

"I know, but we still have things to do tonight. Trust me, I'd rather just go to bed and cuddle and sleep, but we can't. I'm not willing to give up. And you aren't either."

"Even been too tired to jerk off," Rodney whined. "Owe Carson so much money, too."

"So don't cheapen it by giving up."

"You're too optimistic."

"No, I just won't give up. If I get kicked out, fine, I lost fair and square, but I refuse to lose because I just stopped trying. I've worked too hard and gave up too much to do that now."

Rodney huffed quietly. He shifted again a few minutes later, lips pressing to John's neck just above his shirt collar. "Hi."

"Hi." John inhaled that unique scent that was all Rodney. It had been too long.

"You all settled in?"

"No. I just got here and dropped my bag. I'm wiped out, but I guess Tim will be here soon for dinner."

"Oh. Radek is a little tattle-tale, isn't he?"

"He was worried about you."

"Just my daily freak out."

"Well, stop it. You're talented and giving up before it's done isn't like you."

"Then you don't know me very well. I'm very good at anticipating results and I'm very realistic."

"I know. But you also don't give up. You might drive yourself nuts getting there, but you don't just walk away."

"I guess we'll see," Rodney said with a quiet snort. Anything else was interrupted by Radek who was standing in the doorway.

"You have ten minutes. Tim is downstairs. It is good you broke into bathroom. Hate to see him eating soap for sustenance."

John snorted. "I don't recommend it."

"If he had not opened door, he would not have had other options."

"He would have come out." John smiled and hugged Rodney closer. "I have faith in him."

"You and no one else. Ten minutes," Radek said with a huff as he left.

John laughed softly. "Come on, let's get off this floor. I want to at least change before we go down."

Rodney let John get up first, holding up his hands to the other man once he was upright. "I'm probably crippled for life. The marble is cold and hard."

"Nah, you'll be fine once you get some hot coffee in you."

"Do you know what's sad? I've had to cut back. It's been giving me heartburn," Rodney grumbled as John tugged him to his feet.

John laughed. "That is sad. Maybe decaf?"

Rodney made a face. "I'd rather risk a bleeding ulcer than drink that swill."

"At least you'd get the flavor."

"That's not an option."

John laughed again.

Rodney scowled, trying to ignore the way his insides clenched when John let go of his hands. He tried not to clamp back onto him. He wasn't running away and he didn't need to show any more of his neurotic personality. "So…how are you? It's good to see you."

John smiled. "Exhausted, to tell the truth. It was a long flight. Screaming babies and all. I really just wanted to come in, take a shower, and catch up and cuddle with you before passing out. Hopefully Tim won't keep us long tonight."

"Doubtful. It's our return dinner. I just know he's going to drop the other shoe. I know it."

"Probably." John made a face. "I made sketches for five more designs that could go in my collection, all with a little bit if a different look and feel, so I'll be prepared, I hope, for whatever they might throw at us."

"I don't even want to think about making something else," Rodney said with a groan as he sank down on the bed. "I don't even want to see another needle or sewing machine or notion for the next year."

John chuckled, even as he started stripping off his shirt. "I hear you. This has been seriously intense."

Rodney glanced around, not seeing John's suitcase. "Where are you clothes?"

John waved a hand. "Over there. I dropped the bag on one of the beds."

"Beds? There's one bed in this room and your suitcase is not here. Are you going to prance around the penthouse apartment naked until you find it?"

John blinked and looked around. "Oh. This is the wrong room."

"This is my room."

John nodded. "Yes. Sorry. Let's walk down the hall. I blame it on my jetlag."

Rodney nodded, pushing himself back to his feet and following John down the hall. He watched him moving around the room, changing into a new set of jeans and another black shirt—no surprise there. If Rodney had his way, he'd say screw it and try to convince John to go with him somewhere, but Rodney had promised Carson he'd try to compete. Besides, he owed the Scot money.

John ran a hand through his hair a few times. "Okay, do I look decent enough?"

Rodney shook himself, nodding. "Yes. You look just as delectable as ever."

John's smile was sensual. "I can't wait to get you alone, with no distractions."

"And that's not going to happen for a week at least."

"Yeah, but we're in the home stretch."

"Hopefully, if we don't screw up too badly."

"Even if we do, we made it to final four." John shook his head. "I still can't believe it."

"I know," Rodney said as they moved to the stairs, heading back down to the main section of their opulent apartment. The cameramen had all moved in and it looked like Tim was already holding court, a glass of wine in hand.

John glanced over at him. "Just don't give up yet, okay? We've almost made it to the end. Don't stop competing now."

"John and Rodney!" Tim exclaimed as soon as he caught sight of them. "It's good to see that you made it back to New York safe and sound."

John's smile was easy. "Safe, but jetlagged. How have you been?"

"Wonderful. I'm really looking forward to seeing how your collections turned out," Tim said as Rodney headed over to the bar grabbing a beer for himself.

They settled in with Tim, Radek and Evan. "So what now?" John looked around. "I can't believe there isn't a twist."

"Do you really think there's going to be a twist?" Tim said, looking at John intently. Rodney held back a snicker.

John shrugged. "There always is, right?"

Tim glanced around the room, shifting a little in his seat. Rodney tried not to wince, already thinking to himself, 'oh here it comes'.

"I was going to wait to tell you once we'd enjoyed dinner," Tim said slowly as the butterflies in the pit of Rodney's stomach imploded.

John shook his head. "I'd rather know now, so I can start thinking about it."

"Honestly, I'm not going to be able to eat until I do know," Rodney said, getting nods and similar comments from Evan and Radek.

"So see," John gestured around. "We're all too anxious to wait."

Tim was quiet for a minute and then he leaned forward, putting his wine glass on the table. "Well, it seems like you've pushed me to reveal my hand."

They all leaned in, no one breathing.

"We've decided that the talent in this year's group of designers has been even higher than we anticipated. We want to make sure that we are sending the right designers to Bryant Park, so you're going to fight for the three spots. No one is guaranteed to go until after the small runway show we're going to have you showcasing three of your looks."

John groaned. "That sucks!"

Rodney dropped his head into his hands. "You have got to be kidding me." He was screwed. So screwed.

"I thought a guaranteed spot was what we won last round. That doesn't seem fair."

"Actually, John," Tim said, turning toward the other man. "No spots were guaranteed, so we decided that this would be the best way to eliminate the last designer before Bryant Park."

They all sighed. "So we can choose three of our looks to show? We don't have to create new ones?"

"For this runway show, you will be showcasing three of your looks—what you think are the best ones that will convince the judges of your vision and make them want to see your full line," Tim replied.

"How long do we have for fitting the models and making adjustments?"

"You'll be showing your pieces tomorrow night."

"And how soon can we get the models?" John leaned forward. "We all still need to cast, and then fit them."

"Your models will be there first thing in the morning," Tim said as Rodney tried not to panic. He had so much work to do. He needed the time in NY to finish his collection for Bryant Park. He had no time for another project, another competition.

They all sighed. "All right," John said.

"So," Tim said after a long moment of silence. "Is everyone up for dinner?"

They all shrugged, already starting to think about which pieces they needed to show, and what needed to get done.

"You expect us to eat after that bombshell of an announcement?" Rodney asked, astonished that Tim could even think they'd be hungry.

Tim cocked his head. "That's why I was going to wait until after dinner."

"Well, you can all enjoy dinner," Rodney said, rising to his feet. "I'm going upstairs to try and organize everything for tomorrow's dog and pony show."

Tim sighed. "I wish you'd stay. This is the time to celebrate that you made it this far."

"Well, we don't all get want we want, do we?" Rodney asked a little bitterly, headed toward the stairs. The smell from the catered food was turning his stomach, the beer he'd drank rumbling unpleasantly inside him.

About a half hour later, there was a knock at his bedroom door. "Rodney?" It was John's voice drifting in.

Rodney sighed quietly, looking up from the papers and pictures spread out over the king-sized bed. "Yeah?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." He leaned back against the pile of pillows behind him, watching as John slowly opened the door, ducking his head in first.

"Hey. I brought you something to eat, so you don't get sick. I tried to pick the most mellow things they had."

"Thanks," he said with a tired smile. "You didn't have to. I would have grabbed something once Tim left."

"It was a good excuse to come check on you." John sat next to him on the bed.

"Are you supposed to be here?" Rodney asked, pushing his papers and photos into a pile.

John shrugged. "No one told me I couldn't. Are you going to be okay tomorrow?"

Rodney sighed. "I don't know. I need more time."

"You'll pull it out. You always do."

"Did Tim leave?"

"Yeah. We were all a little stressed thinking about tomorrow, so he did his best to encourage us, then when I almost fell asleep in my entree, he told us to go get some sleep."

Rodney chuckled softly. "If it was your real time you have two or three hours on us. You should be wide awake yet."

"I hadn't slept the night before. I'm going close to a day and a half with no sleep at all."

"That's not good," Rodney said, bumping his shoulder against John's. "I only know that because you yell at me for it."

"I know." John chuckled. "I didn't mean to, I was just up packing too late, and then it was time to go."

"Supposedly that's not an excuse. Or so I've been told," Rodney said, giving John a small smile.

"You're right. But hey, I'm human. I don't claim to never make mistakes." John bumped their shoulders together. "So... want to lay down and go to sleep with me?"

"I want to, but I need a little more time to work some of this out in my head."

John nodded. "Tell you what, I'm going to shower, and then I'll come back and we'll go to bed. Okay?"

"Okay," Rodney said flashing John a smile. "Thanks."

Rodney watched John leave, pulling the door closed behind him. He sighed and shifted through his papers and photos, trying to decide what designs he could put down the runway with minimal fixing. He really didn't have anything completely finished, so it was a tossup between them all.

When John finally wandered back in—nearly an hour later—Rodney was more than ready to go to sleep. He'd eaten whatever John had brought in earlier and had pulled off his clothes, sliding naked between the sheets.

The sheets here were to die for.

"Hey," he said with a quiet smile as John walked in.

"H…ey." John's sleepy greeting was interrupted by a huge yawn. "Bed?"

"I think that's where I am."

"Yay." John stripped and quickly joined him under the covers. "Oh god, it feels good to be horizontal."

Rodney chuckled quietly, shifting as John spooned up behind him. "I know that you feel a lot better and these sheets are amazing. So that's quite a compliment."

"Mmmmmmm. I'll be better able to appreciate both tomorrow night."

"If I'm still here."

"You will be. You're the best designer here, if you can get your head in the game. I think you can win it all."

"We'll see I guess," Rodney said quietly as John's arm tightened around him, pulling him close. This was nice and something he didn't want to forget—just in case things went to hell in a hand basket tomorrow.

***

***

Then next morning was hectic for John. They got up way too early for his still-on-California-time self, and quickly got into the workroom, where they had a half-hour before they were then brought to casting. That was a good two hours of looking at girls, comparing them to what he had in his head, and negotiating with the other three to get the ones he really wanted.

All in all, it had already been a long day by the time the three he had decided to use for the mini-show finally arrived in the workroom so he could fit the clothes.

Fittings were crazy and once you added in makeup and hair and accessories and one panicking Rodney, John was really happy to finally sit down next to the runway to see his line come down the catwalk.

The three pieces he had chosen were the first, last and dead middle pieces he planned for the full line. He wanted to give the judges a glimpse of his vision, and thought this was the best way to do it.

Watching the other three collections, though, he had to admit it was going to be tough. They were all fantastic and very personal to each of them.

Rodney's looked…immaculate. Full of structure and perfect seaming, but also holding this strange elegance and softness. He had no idea what Rodney was thinking when he moaned that the garments weren't finished.

Leaning in, John whispered to him. "Your stuff is amazing. I wish I had half your talent."

"They're not done. Did you see those seams? And that hem?"

"They're gorgeous." John shook his head. "You can't see how beautiful they are."

"They're not finished. I didn't have enough time," Rodney said quietly as Radek's line came around the corner. It was beautiful in its own way—very flowy.

"Maybe to you, but I can't see it. All I can see are outfits I couldn't hope to match."

"Yours were perfect."

John shook his head. "Compared to yours they look like peasant frocks."

"I see the sky and water when I look at yours."

John felt himself blush a little. "I have a beach inspired collection, but the way yours are put together, and the way they flow... it's amazing. I could watch people walk around in your stuff all day and not get bored."

"Ditto."

John smiled at him, and they both turned to watch Evan's stuff as it came down the runway.

It was…rough. There was no way to explain it. It had a hard edge to it that made it very futuristic and…hard.

John shook his head. He had no idea what the judges would decide.

They had the opportunity to talk about their designs, going through their inspiration to how they had picked the three pieces they'd showed the judges. John had to cringe when Rodney in his usual honest and blunt fashion told the judges that these were the three pieces in his collection that were at a point that he didn't think he would embarrass himself too badly if they were shown.

Finally, it was time. All four of them stood before the judges, none of them safe, only three of them getting to move on. John prayed to every god he could think of that he and Rodney filled two of those spots.

Heidi concentrated on her cards before finally looking up, offering a smile. "Welcome, designers. I have to say that you did not make this easy for us."

John swallowed hard.

"But we've finally come to a decision about the designers we'd like to see more of. Three of you will be showing your collections at Bryant Park during Fashion Week." She paused. "And one of you is out."

They all shared a look. No matter what, the four of them had all gotten to know each other well. It was going to be hard to see anyone go.

"John," Heidi said, catching his eyes.

He stopped breathing, but somehow managed to nod at her.

"We thought your designs were unique and truly showed a distinct voice. We'd all love to see what else you've designed." She smiled at him, not saying the words.

His eyes widened, and he dared to take a tiny breath, to hope. Maybe he had done enough...

"And we're going to get that chance. Congratulations."

"Oh my god." He almost went to his knees. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Heidi smiled—along with all of the judges. "You may leave the runway."

He nodded. "Thank you. Thank you..." He managed to give the other three a hug—Rodney's lingered just a bit longer—wishing them all luck before he headed off stage. Oh my god. He had made it to Bryant Park.

Less than five minutes later and Radek was striding into the green room, looking as shell shocked as John felt.

"So?"

"I am in. I…" He shook his head. "It is…very overwhelming."

"Congratulations!" John stood up and gave him a big hug. "We made it to Bryant Park. Just one more spot left..."

"Yes. Just one more. Two very structured collections."

"Yeah. They're both so different. There's just no way to know which one the judges will choose."

"Rodney needs to stop doubting himself. His garments are…" Radek's hands waved. "…immaculate, beautiful…"

"I know. That's what I told him, but all he could see were the flaws."

"He is best here, but refuses to see."

"And that could be what kills him. If he doesn't have the confidence in himself, the judges won't have confidence in him."

Radek nodded and they fell into an anxious silence as they waited.

It felt like forever. John wondered what was going on out there.

Rodney and Evan walked in together—both looking shell-shocked.

John stopped the pacing he had started in the second half-hour. "So?"

Evan glanced at Rodney and then offered John a tired smile. "I'm going home."

John just stared at him. "You're... out?"

Evan nodded. "I'm going to stay and watch the three of you show your collections, but I won't be showing."

John stepped over and gave him a hug. "I'm sorry. Did they say why?"

"No, not really," Evan said with a shrug. "It's okay. I'm glad I made it this far."

John gave him another hug, then stepped away to let Radek in. He turned to Rodney. "So that means you're..."

"In," Rodney whispered, nodding. "Yes."

John felt the grin spread across his face. "That's... wow. We... we made it."

Rodney nodded again, taking two steps toward John and then stopping, his eyes breaking hard to the right where the cameras were recording everything.

John reached out and pulled him into a quick, hard hug. He whispered in Rodney's ear. "Tonight. We'll celebrate later, when the cameras are gone."

"I made it, John. I did it."

"You did. I knew you could."

"I made it," Rodney repeated, clinging to John. The words sounded suspiciously wet, whispered harshly into John's neck.

John hugged him hard again. "You did it, buddy. We all had faith in you."

The next few hours—once Rodney stopped pretending to be a mollusk—were a blur. They had to go over their agenda for the next two days. It would be frantic, but John thought it would be doable. They were giving them time to finish up their designs and also pick the rest of their models.

The producers were taking the three of them out for a really nice dinner tonight, so they all went back to the suite to get dressed up and ready to go.

Dinner was nice. Quiet. It was something they needed. What was a little disconcerting, though, was how quiet Rodney was through the entire meal. He had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he wasn't really there.

"Hey, buddy, you okay?" John leaned over and poked him.

Rodney glanced at him, focusing in on his face. He nodded. "Just…thinking."

John smiled. "Yeah. It's still a lot to take in, huh?"

Rodney nodded again. "Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"I'm trying not to panic."

Laughing softly, John nodded. "I figured. But you made it this far, and everyone loves your collection."

"We'll see."

"Hey, you made it to final three, and we're showing in Bryant Park. At this point, even if I come in third, I'll be thrilled."

Rodney smiled at him, but didn't comment further, turning his attention back to the others at the table. By the time they headed back to their penthouse apartment, everyone was exhausted, the day's events finally catching up with them.

"All right, shower, and then bed. In that order. I think."

"No," Rodney said as he climbed the stairs. "Bed first."

John laughed. "Maybe."

"No maybe about it."

"Yeah. As much as I want to be clean, I think I'm more tired."

"You think?" Rodney asked with a snort as he turned the corner toward the master suite.

"I'm talking myself out of a shower."

"It doesn't sound like it's taking much convincing," he said. Rodney was already stripping out of his clothes before John entered the room four steps behind him.

"Not really." John laughed as he started pulling off his own clothes.

Less than a minute later—how Rodney managed it, John would never know—Rodney was naked. He padded over to the bed, throwing the extra pillows on the floor.

"Wait for me!"

"Not my fault you're slow."

"Yeah, yeah..." John took another few minutes to strip and put his stuff neatly to the side before climbing into bed.

Rodney was already in the middle of the bed, huddled in the covers.

John scooted in until they were spooned together. "Mmm. Night. And congrats."

"Thanks," Rodney said with a contented hum. "You, too."

John fell asleep with his head already starting to whirl with everything that would need to happen tomorrow before the final show.

***

They got to sleep in the next morning. Well, until seven. It was a hell of a lot better than six or five, but it was still way too early in the morning. Even though Rodney knew he had a ton of work left to finish before Bryant Park in two days, he would rather stay in bed with John.

That was a lot more fun.

John muttered as the alarm got him waking up. "...don' wanna..."

Rodney shifted in John arms, reaching for the alarm on the bedside table, but he couldn't reach. With a sigh, he shifted again to move to turn the damn thing off, but John's arms tightened around him.

"Mmm. Like you here."

"I like me here, too, but the alarm won't turn itself off."

"Hmph. Stupid alarm."

"I can't crush it with the power of my personality. Sorry."

John's laugh was still sleep-rough and sent a shiver of arousal up Rodney's spine. "S'okay."

"Are you going to let me go turn it off?"

"Oh, all right. If you insist." John's arms loosened around him.

"I insist. I think my ears might be bleeding," Rodney said with a huff. He turned on his stomach and half crawled to the edge of the bed, slapping the alarm off.

"Mmm, much quieter now."

"Much." Rodney collapsed where he was on the bed, stretched out. "But now I'm awake."

"Yeah." John sighed. "I guess we should start moving."

"I moved. I'm over here now."

"I see that."

"It's cold over here."

John sat up and smiled. "From here, it looks seriously hot."

Rodney shifted, turning his head toward John as he huffed in amusement. "You just have a thing for my ass."

"Can you blame me? It's a perfect ass."

Rodney rolled his eyes and shifted his hips, watching as John's eyes focused on his ass. "You are an idiot."

"Mmm, what?"

"Idiot."

John grinned and rolled out of bed. "Come on, we've got to get ready for another busy day."

Rodney scowled at him but did follow John out of the bed, moving past him in the bathroom as he was taking a piss to turn on the shower. "The next two days are going to be insane. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, but we're showing in Bryant Park. To one of the most A-List groups of celebs and designers possible. It doesn't matter who wins. We'll all get the kind of exposure we can use to really get our careers off the ground."

"Insane," Rodney repeated in a singsong voice as he stuck his hand in the shower, checking the temp. He scowled, adjusting it warmer.

"Yeah, but it's all worth it." John came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Rodney's waist. "And when it's all over, we can decide where we want to go next. Together."

"Somewhere nice. Maybe Paris."

"And then what? Where do you ultimately see yourself settling? Doing?"

"I don't know. I really don't. I guess I can finish my third degree."

"Well... I'd like if you came to California. I want you to meet Teyla and Ronon. Maybe my brother."

"Are you sure?" Rodney asked, shifting slightly to glance back at John. "I'm not exactly a prize to take home."

"Yes, you are."

Rodney didn't answer for a minute. "Carson will kill me if I don't bring you home to meet him."

"I want to meet him."

"Yes, well, that's all well and good, I guess, but it doesn't get us any closer to actually anything right now, does it?"

"Yes, it does." Rodney tilted his head slightly to give John more access to press kisses to the skin there. "We've decided that after the show, we're going, together, to meet each other's families."

"No," Rodney said, stiffening a little. "We didn't mention anything about family."

"Well, I consider Teyla and Ronon family, and it sounds like Carson is sort of like your family. That's what I meant."

"Fine, fine. If you go by that definition."

"Friends are the family you choose."

"I guess." Rodney sighed. "So, are we going to shower?"

"Yeah." John pressed another kiss into his neck. "Let's get ready to start the day."

The slow start of the day was nice—especially with the in-shower blow job. Things, though, did not stay nice and quiet. They had half a day to frantically work on their designs before they were whisked away to a model casting. They needed ten girls each and there were hundreds waiting. It took forever to get through the casting list to find and settle on their models and then pick three alternatives each—just in case.

By the end of the day, all three of them were exhausted, but it wasn't the end. They had to go to dinner with the producers and sit through interviews and promos for the finale.

By the time they finally rolled into bed—close to midnight—Rodney was ready to cry. He was so tired and panicked, he was just barely holding it together. Tomorrow was going to be a frantic day of fittings and alterations and models and make-up and hair design.

John spooned up behind him, rubbing his back and whispering sleepy reassurances to him until he fell asleep.

He just wished that everything could be solved with a warm body curled up behind him and soft words. Life wasn't like that, though.

***

The second day of fittings was…insane. John was just glad most of the models he had chosen didn't need too many alterations, otherwise, he would be completely losing his mind.

He was trying to ignore the low-leveled complains and mutterings from across the room where Rodney was losing his mind. His models seemed perfect, but he was having some issues choosing garments for them, changing his mind ten times before settling on one.

Rodney's collection was amazing, and looked perfect—John was convinced he was going to win—but the man himself didn't seem to believe it. John had stopped complimenting him. It actually seemed to be making him more and more nervous.

Radek's collection, on the other hand, was soft and flowy and very feminine. John liked it, but it was something he'd seen before—when a designer tried to elevate women to that god-like position.

His own collection he loved—every piece had come out exactly how he wanted it to in the end—but he wasn't sure it was enough to beat Rodney's perfection.

"John," one of the production assistants said quietly as she approached his workstation. "They're ready for you and your model down in hair and make-up."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. This was it. Once they were down there, he could do last-minute adjustments before they walked on stage, but…this was it.

He had to pick a look for the girls, decide how he wanted them to look, how he wanted the hair and make-up to work with his collection.

Walking down, he quickly got into the rhythm with the head stylist. They went down the line with each of the models, with John explaining the vision for each piece, and the look he was going for. It took them an hour to go through all ten looks, but when he left, he was feeling good. They were as much artists in hair and makeup as he was, and the looks they had come up with for him were going to be stunning with the clothes.

Taking a deep breath, he wandered back upstairs, noticing that Rodney was gone. He was probably next in line to go over hair and make-up. Radek was working away quietly, head down, concentrating on the finishing touches of his clothes.

John got back to work, making some final adjustments to ensure a perfect fit on every one of his girls. He felt more than heard Radek. He glanced up to find the Czech standing across from his table.

"Hey." John rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Three or so." Radek was quiet for a long moment, staring at John.

"Wow. I'm surprised they've let us go so long." He looked around. "Where's Rodney?"

"We are not going to win, are we?" he asked instead.

John shrugged. "We've all got a chance, it really depends on what the judges are looking for."

Radek sighed, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps. It is good to have hope, yes?"

"Exactly. If you give up, you've already lost. I love my collection, and I think, no matter who wins, we've all got a shot to really advance our careers. That's the big thing."

"Ah, but the money would help more, no?" Radek asked, wandering back over to his area.

"Maybe. But I'm not going to get bogged down in it. I want to put on a good show, and get my name known in the industry. What comes next, I'll worry about later."

There was silence again as Radek started working again, lasting about five minutes. "He went down to hair and make-up with models."

"That was a while ago, wasn't it? I wonder what's taking him so long."

"No. Only hour. Less than hour. It took you two."

"Huh. It seems like it's been longer."

Radek shrugged again. "It takes as much time as it takes. I was quick."

"Tomorrow is going to be interesting."

"Exciting."

"Sad, in a way. I'm going to miss all this once it's over."

"You will still have drama, no? Will not Rodney stay with you?"

John laughed softly. "I don't consider that drama. But yes, we plan to go visit each other's homes and introduce our friends. After that…we'll see."

"That is fair," Radek said with a smile, his head turning toward the door. "I believe he is returning."

John looked up, a smile already on his face.

Sure enough, Rodney appeared a few minutes later, his hands wrapped around a huge cup—coffee John guessed. He looked calm—nearly. Well, it was better than the alternative. He headed directly for his station, poking through the fabric he'd left dumped on top.

John wandered over—he needed a break anyway. "So how did it go down there?"

"I didn't kill anyone so I count it as a win. I did make one model cry. So, maybe a draw?"

He had to laugh. "Why did she cry? That's usually not until the actual show."

"I…may have made a disparaging comment about her mother. Maybe." Rodney scrunched up his face a little.

John just laughed harder.

"She's pigeon toed. I don't know why I didn't see that earlier and it's all because of her genes. Apparently her mother may have had some issues…"

He had to lean over and use the workbench for support as he laughed helplessly. It probably wasn't that funny, but he was tired, and this just set him off.

"She was walking weird and slouching. You should know about the slouching part, you do it. And I was frustrated and I may have taken it out on her, but it was a valid observation!"

John had to suck in a gasp of air. "Only you. God, I love you."

"It's really not that humorous," Rodney said, and without looking John knew there was a scowl on Rodney's face.

"I know." John got his giggles under control as best he could. "I blame it on not enough sleep and too much coffee."

"And yet you're not stopping."

"I can't. I'm trying!"

He heard a sign of exasperation and John glanced up, only to break into laughter again when he caught sight of Rodney—arms crossed over his chest and scowling at him.

"I... can't... help.... it..." John squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of un-funny things.

"No blow-jobs for you."

"Awwwww...."

"You're laughing at me. I don't think you deserve a blow-job anytime in the near future." And honestly, it didn’t help that Radek was snickering on the other side of the room.

"Not... laughing at you." John managed to look up without breaking into giggles again. "Laughing at the picture I have in my mind of her face."

"Uh huh." Yeah. No sex in the near future was probably closer to the truth if Rodney's expression was any indication.

John took a deep breath and willed himself not to laugh anymore. "Hey, everyone gets an uncontrollable case of the laughs sometimes."

"No, they don't."

John shrugged. "I do. Not often, and usually when I'm sleep deprived, but it happens."

Rodney sniffed, turning back to his garments.

John came up behind him, and risked pressing a kiss to the back of Rodney's neck. "I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you. I just pictured her face and... I couldn't help it."

"Now you're trying to butter me up because you want sex sometime in the near future," Rodney said with a huff, but leaned back into John.

"No I'm not. I just don't want you mad at me. I didn't mean to make you feel like I was laughing at you."

"All I have to say in the matter is that the make-up sex had better be good," Rodney hissed. "Now I need to finish working or else some of my pigeon-toed models will be walking naked down the runway."

John kissed the back of his neck again, then withdrew. "Yeah, I have a bit more I need to get done, too."

"At least all your garments are finished."

"Mostly. And your stuff looks amazing. I don't know why you're so hard on yourself. Frankly, I'll be surprised if you don't win."

"It's sloppy work. I've been torn apart for work that was better than this before."

John shook his head. "You don't even know how talented you are, and that amazes me. What you think is sub-par, I couldn't do on my best day."

"I'm not anything special," Rodney said quietly, as his hands worked at sewing a hem on one of his dresses. "I'm good technically, really good, but there's nothing more behind it." Rodney shrugged. "It's okay. I know what my limitations are."

"But that's where you're wrong. You have a vision none of the rest of us can hope to match." John went to work adjusting a seam on one of his dresses. "Radek and I were just talking before about the fact that neither of us really has a chance against you. I'm just proud to have made it this far."

"I've been doing this a long time, John, learning from the best, and I can't do a tenth of what they can. No, this isn't anything special. It's sloppy work. I didn't spend enough time on anything and it's purely by chance that I'm here."

John shook his head. He wasn't going to argue with Rodney about it, but he was amazed that the man truly couldn't see how gifted he was.

They fell into a comfortable silence that was only interrupted by quiet curses or the sound of the sewing machine. About an hour later mayhem erupted in the workroom when their models showed up for final fittings. After that, they headed back to the hotel to sleep. It was their last night before Bryant Park.

John wasn't sure he would be able to sleep at all, but as soon as he had Rodney in his arms, surprisingly, he fell immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

The screaming of the alarm woke him up way before he was ready to be awake. Two-thirty in the morning should not be any time known to the conscious man.

Rodney groaned, shoving his face into the pillow. Next to him, John mumbled something and curled in closer.

"We have to get up."

"Mmmmmmmmknow."

"We're going to Bryant Park."

John lifted his head. "Wow. It's finally here."

"At the hairy ass-crack of dawn, yes."

The other man smiled, yawned, and then crawled over to shut the alarm off. "We finally get to show our collections. It's just... wow."

"Right now, I think I just want to go back to sleep. There's not enough coffee in the world to get me up."

"Once we get moving, you'll feel better. And tomorrow, we can sleep in as late as we want."

"Are we actually allowed to stay here tonight?"

"Yeah. They're keeping us here through tonight, and we check out or whatever they call it tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh thank god."

"Yeah. I was glad we don't have to worry about it tonight. I guess with all the stuff going on, they figured we wouldn't have time to pack and move."

"And I'm guessing they'll put the winner up somewhere to do the media circus stuff."

"All of us, probably." John kissed his neck, a habit Rodney was secretly really enjoying. "They'll tell us the schedule once we get to the studio."

Rodney let himself enjoy the feel of John's arms for a few minutes more before stirring. "Okay. We need to get moving or we're going to be late."

"Yeah, definitely not the day to be late." John let him get up, and was right behind him climbing out of bed.

They showered and shaved in relative silence, moving around each other easily as they got ready for what was probably the most important day of their lives.

Rodney spent the time musing about his designs, about what he'd admitted to John and Radek. He hadn't been kidding yesterday when he said his work was just "okay". He'd been taught by some of the best designers, but they were never pleased with his work. He had the skill. They'd told him that often enough, but it was the passion and the drive and the creativity that he was missing.

He sighed to himself, leaning into the mirror to make sure he got the last bit of hair from his face. He had already picked out his outfit for today—one of the new things he'd been forced to pick up when his clothing had been trashed. It was different for him, but it made him look like he had muscles and hid the paunch of his belly—both good things.

John was wearing—shocker—all black, his hair extra spiky. "Wanna walk downstairs and get some coffee before we head out?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes. I need the biggest mug you can find. And a pastry of some sort."

John leaned in for a minty toothpaste kiss. "I'll have them waiting for you. See you downstairs."

"Okay," Rodney said with a nod, fluffing his own hair a little before he moved back in the bedroom to pull on his clothes and shoes. He was nervous, but trying not to let it get the better of him.

Sure enough when he walked downstairs, John had food and coffee waiting. He was leaning against the counter sipping on his own mug and talking quietly with Radek. He looked up as Rodney came down. "Hey."

"Hi," he said offering a brief smile to both of them. He pointedly ignored the camera crew. "Are you ready for today?"

"I think so." Radek ran a hand through his hair. "I do not expect to win, but I will enjoy showing collection."

"Your collection is gorgeous, what are you talking about?" Rodney rolled his eyes and took his first sip of coffee. Oh god, so good.

Radek shrugged. "You will win, of this I have no doubt."

"I'm only here because I'm technically perfect. You have the…" He waved his hand not attached to his mug. "…vision. Both you and John have it."

Radek just stared at him. "And you believe you do not? If that is true, then you are needing head examination."

"I'm a realist, Radek. I've told you that before."

"No, you are artist, you just refuse to see it. I cannot imagine vitriol whomever trained you must have had, to allow jealousy to overrule encouraging you."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I'm on my third degree, Radek. At my age, there's a reason for that."

"Yes, but you see only your technical perfection. You cannot see that technique without heart would not have gotten you here. Technique without creativity and vision is useless."

"Technical ability has gotten me this far, so I'm not going to complain."

"No, technical ability along with amazing creative vision has gotten you this far."

Rodney waved him off. "I'm not having this conversation with you hours before we compete. I'm trying not to panic."

Radek shrugged. "Should be interesting day."

Rodney snorted and then took a sip of his coffee. He'd need gallons of it before he was human.

John had just been standing there while they talked. When Rodney's cup was empty, a new one, full of more coffee just the way he liked it, seemed to magically appear in his hand.

Rodney glanced up, meeting John's eyes. "Thanks."

"Welcome." John's eyes were soft.

He took a step closer, wanting to kiss those lips, to make John's eyes even softer and darker.

Radek cleared his throat.

Rodney jerked to a stop, his head snapping around, and coffee spilling over Rodney's fingers. "What? What was that for?"

Radek gestured to the cameras.

"I hate you," Rodney mumbled, scowling into his coffee as he moved to the sink to wash off his hand.

Radek shrugged. "This is not something you wish to share with national audience, correct?"

"Probably already have."

"Yes, but there is line you have not crossed. I save you from yourselves."

"Yes, yes, fine," Rodney said, wiping his hands with a paper towel. "Are we going or are we going to stand here all morning?"

"We are waiting for you to finish drinking carafe of coffee."

"I don't drink a carafe of coffee."

Radek shrugged again. "Then let us be going, eh?"

Rodney inhaled his pastry—chocolate croissant—in two bites and swallowed down the rest of his coffee. He left his mug in the sink and headed to the door with John and Radek to head to Bryant Park.

When they arrived, they had a half-hour meeting with the producers to go over the timeline, and then another half-hour to walk around backstage and on the runway to familiarize themselves with what they would be doing in just a few short hours.

It was…amazing and unreal. Rodney couldn't believe he was here, walking on the runway where his collection would be shown in a few hours in front of celebrities and fashion critics and millions of people on television.

Holy crap.

John wandered up behind him. "Can you believe in just a few hours, this place is going to be packed, and our clothes will be on display for the world?"

"No," Rodney said, his eyes wide as he looked around. "I just…no…"

"Yeah." John smiled. "It's going to be terrifying and amazing at the same time."

"The next few hours are going to be insane."

"Yeah. I'm glad they let us come in here and check it out first though."

Rodney nodded, still taking it all in.

"All right, gentlemen," said one of the production assistants as he came in. "Your models will be arriving upstairs in about twenty minutes. You'll have a half hour to do any last minute adjustments, then they'll need to be off to hair and makeup. They'll meet you backstage where you'll dress them and prep them for the runway. To reiterate what we went over this morning, Radek, your collection will walk first, followed by John, and finishing with Rodney. If you haven't already found your staging area backstage, please do that now before you go up to meet your models."

Oh god. It was time. It was really here.

The assistant kept talking as he led them back behind the curtain that separated the stage areas. "Once you get down here, you'll have an hour and a half before the show begins. Once it starts, you'll all stop working. You can do extreme last minute stuff as the models are walking out, but all three of you are required to stop alterations and changes once Radek starts to line up his models."

"And what if the models don't show?"

"That's why you each picked alternates. It will be your call as to when you pull in the substitutes or give your first choices more time." He pointed to the floor. "These numbers are where you line your models up. Once Radek's set has moved over there," he pointed to another line closer to where the models would go on stage from, "John, you'll need to start lining yours up. The number they stand on here is the number they walk out as. There is two minutes between when the last model leaves the stage from the previous show to when you'll be going on to introduce your collection, so make sure you're lining them up and have them ready while the show in front of you is going on."

"Someone will direct us, right?"

The assistant nodded. "We'll let you know when you have five minutes until you need to be lining up."

"Someone had better be directing this whole thing," Rodney said with a sniff, "because I did not pay any attention to what you just said. I have a collection to put together and models to dress."

The assistant rolled his eyes. "You need to be upstairs now to meet your models before they head to hair and makeup."

"I have to check my garments first. Make sure you didn't rip them to shreds when you were transporting them here," Rodney said as he headed toward his work area.

John and Radek were right behind him, and then there were all getting down to work. There was a lot to do, and not much time to do it.

The next few hours was a rush of people, fabrics, and needles as Rodney made last minute adjustments to his models. The last time he checked he was missing two, but there was still time. There had better be time. Five of his girls were in hair and make-up, while he was finishing up the three that were with him—adding accessories and adjusting the garments.

An assistant walked by. "This is your thirty minute warning guys!"

"What do you mean thirty minutes? I'm still missing two girls!"

"Then you need to get your alternates and get them dressed ASAP."

"I don't see them, either."

"They're in the holding room. There are a few of them there, and they've all had base makeup done so they're ready to go get your styling. If you get them in there now, you'll have them in ten minutes."

"So send them! I'm kind of in the middle of something here," Rodney said, a little frantically as three more girls showed up.

"I have no idea which ones are yours, and what you want them to look like. You need to specify which looks these girls are replacing, and only the stylist will know what you're talking about."

"I can't go there!"

"The holding room is right there." He pointed. "And the longer you stand here and bitch about it, the less time you have to get them ready." The assistant wandered off.

"I can't be in two places at the same time!" Rodney yelled at the assistant's back as he walked away.

The assistant didn't even turn around.

Rodney turned his attention to the three new girls who's returned, quickly moving them into their garments and accessorizing and adjusting everything. Tim wandered over somewhere midway through.

"Rodney, you seem to be short a few. How is it going?"

"Horrible. Terrible. Your production assistants are completely worthless and won't help me one damn bit."

"Well, that's not what they're there for." Tim smiled at him. "You still have some time. Go get your alternative models into makeup, then come back and work on this part."

"I can't be in two places at the same time. I'm not leaving the models here when there's work that needs my attention here. Someone else can play messenger."

"It's not a matter of playing messenger, Rodney." Tim pursed his lips. "This is part of a live show. Managing your time most effectively. If you spend too much time here, you'll have to dress your final models without any hair or makeup. That's up to you, but I'd strongly suggest you get that started then come back and finish here. Multi-task."

"In a real show I'd have a god-damned assistant helping me. I'm just asking someone to walk down to the alternatives and tell them to go to hair and make-up. That's all."

"Unfortunately, since we don't know which models you're missing, and what kind of hair and makeup they need, you're the only one who can do that. I'm sorry Rodney."

"All I'm asking for is a little bit of help. Everyone else has their models. I'm missing two."

"Actually, John had three not show up, and Radek was missing one of his as well." Tim gave him a small smile. "I've got to go check on the others. Good luck, and make it work!"

Rodney was not proud of the curses he uttered as Tim walked away. There was no way to get it all done. No way. The stylists knew his look. They didn't need him there.

He glanced up, looking at one of the finished models. "I need you to go and tell two of my alternates to go to get their makeup done. I'll worry about everything else once they get here. Just have them go. The stylists know what to do."

She shrugged. "Sure."

"Go now. If you want to win you had better move that skinny ass of yours. This show will make or break you."

She rolled her eyes, but walked over to the alt room. Ten minutes later, two girls Rodney only vaguely remembered—were they even his alts, or were they one of the other's?—wearing identical makeup and very similar hair, with the same feel as the rest of the girls, at least, showed up.

"Good, good," he said, finishing with girl number six. He pointed to the blonde. "I want you in outfit five and the other one in seven. They're on the rank and numbered. Go. I'll be there in two minutes."

They nodded and moved to the racks. By the time he was ready for them, they were dressed and waiting.

Thank god they were about the same size as the originals. He didn't have to do too many alterations. "Okay. I need you in your shoes now and then stand over there," he said, pointing toward the side of the area. "I have two others to finish and then I'll be with you."

They nodded. Fortunately, he had put the shoes with the outfits earlier, so they knew which ones to grab.

He finished the last two of his original girls, yelling at them to stand in order before he turned his attention to the new ones. He had to fix their hems, adjust a few seams, but it wasn't as horrible as he thought. Only marginally horrible.

Before he knew it, the assistants were calling for work to stop, Radek was lining up his models, and the show was starting.

Thankfully, he had just put the last piece of jewelry on his model before the call went out and he sighed with relief. Just in the nick of time.

Just like always.

***

John took a deep breath and stepped out on stage. This was it. "Hi, everyone!"

The room was completely packed and still shifting with energy after Radek's showing. The garments had been gorgeous on the large screen television in the back. His collection had shown really well.

John took a deep breath. "For this collection, I was inspired by something I love—the ocean. I wanted to capture all of the moods of the sea, and still have garments that were wearable and looked amazing. I'm incredibly proud of how it turned out, and I hope you enjoy the show!"

He heard a roar among the crowd, recognizing Ronon's voice which made him smile broadly and laugh as he headed off the runway, his music beginning seconds later.

As his girls filed past, he made minor adjustments to each before they took the spotlight. He had to admit, his stuff looked amazing out there. He was nearly vibrating with excitement as adrenaline rushed through him. God, he could get used to this.

As the last girl returned, John fell in line behind all his girls, following them out and waving to the crowd.

He spotted Ronon and Teyla clapping and waving—and in Ronon's case cheering loudly. The rush was amazing. He loved his line. He loved designing clothes and showing them to people who truly appreciated fine clothing.

As he stepped off the stage, he was in a serious happy place. He grinned at Rodney. "You're up next! Man, that was awesome!"

Rodney looked panicked, but offered John a weak smile as he tilted up his chin, his body getting a defensive position. "You're just an adrenaline junkie."

"Maybe. I loved it!"

Rodney shook his head and moved toward the stage. He paused just before he stepped onto the runway, taking a deep breath.

John grinned at his girls, giving them all big hugs. It was amazing. He'd done it. He had shown in Bryant Park.

***

Rodney took a deep breath. He could do this. He could.

With the microphone in hand, he stepped into the spotlight, trying not to think of all the people in the room and on television watching.

"Hi, my name is Rodney McKay. My collection is based on the structure of nature. Even though you see the beauty in living things—butterflies, flowers, and trees—it's the structure underneath that makes them strong and elegantly beautiful. I wanted to show that same strength and beauty in my clothes. And that's what women are—strong, elegant, and beautiful—each in their own unique ways."

He took another deep breath. "I hope you enjoy the show." He offered a brief, hesitant wave as the ducked backstage, letting the applause buffer him.

John was standing off to the side giving him an encouraging smile.

He kept an eye on the girls as they waited to walk the runway but also continually checked the television, watching as they walked out. He could see so many imperfections in his clothes, but this was it. No turning back.

Before he knew it, the last girl was returning, and it was time for him to take a turn on the catwalk as they all trooped out one more time.

He got in behind the last model and followed them onto the runway. The applause and the cheering was nice, really nice. On the way down he spotted his sister Jeannie—what was she doing here?—and Carson. Both were clapping like mad and smiling broadly at him.

Before he could process it all, he was backstage again, and John was there hugging him and planting a huge kiss on his lips. "We did it!"

Rodney hugged him back, laughing nervously. He couldn't believe they were done. Weeks and months of work were done. Now came the final judgment. But maybe they would have some time to bask in the glory. Maybe.

It was chaos backstage. He could hear Heidi closing the show out front, followed by the hum of the crowd. Assistants came back to get all three of them to walk them around to talk to guests.

He didn't make it past the backstage area before he was tackled by his sister—hugging the stuffing out of him, crying, and yelling at him all at the same time.

"I can't believe you! I didn't know you were capable of things like that! Why didn't you tell me!?"

"You never listen to me!"

She hit him in the shoulder. "And was that hot guy who went before you your John? He's smoking! How did you land him?"

"Yes, that's John. Who else would it be?"

"How the hell did you manage that?"

"And you're surprised I don't tell you anything? You always jump on me about everything and you always think the worst of me." Rodney scowled at her, but the conversation was sidetracked when Carson pulled him into a hug.

"Ya bloody git! And you had me thinking you didna know what you were doing! Those were beautiful. I canna believe you willna win."

"Hey, Carson. Thanks for coming."

"I wouldna have missed it! This is bloody amazing!"

"Welcome to the fashion world and Bryant Park. There's always lots of drama, so I'm not sure how excited you're going to be the longer you stay. And how long are you staying? Where are you staying? When did you get in?" Rodney was starting to relax, to enjoy the experience.

Carson grinned. "Your friend Tim contacted me last week. He has us staying in a nearby hotel with car service and everything! We'll be here through the end of the week. He said you contestants will be given rooms in the same hotel as us tomorrow."

"Oh, good, good. I think you know more than me at this point."

Jeannie hit him in the shoulder again, but lighter this time. "You have to introduce us around."

Rodney craned his neck, looking around. "Who do you want to see? There's Radek and John. Heidi's somewhere. So is Tim…"

"Everyone." Jeannie linked her arm through Rodney's, with Carson on his other side. "Let's start with your John."

Rodney spotted John's mop of unruly hair nearly on the other side of the room and started heading there, only to get sidetracked with nearly each and every step. Old Project Runway contestants and winners stopped to talk to him. The camera crew stopped him to get comments. At some point, he even lost Carson and Jeannie to the crowds.

By the time he realized he'd never made it to John with his guests, it was too late to do anything about it. The production assistants were ushering him out of the tent—another runway show was going to take place shortly.

He was led to a familiar scene—the runway where final judgment would take place.

God. All the nerves came back in a rush as soon as he stepped on the runway, the flush from the show falling off quickly.

It was time for the final fight, the last time the judges would talk to him before they made their final decision. He had to make it good.

***

The after-show crowd had been... almost overwhelming. John had thought, at first, to try and find Rodney again after they were separated, but he had been immediately pulled into a bear hug by Ronon, with Teyla not far behind. "Hi, guys! I didn't know you would be here!"

"John…your designs were beautiful!" Teyla said, a broad smile on her face. "I could picture the ocean and the water and the sky. I do not know how you could put so much into garments."

He smiled. "A lot of time and work. I'm really proud of how the collection came together." He hugged her tight. "And I'm really glad you guys could be here to see it!"

"We would not miss it."

He grinned. "Since you're here, why don't we see if we can find Rodney and I can introduce you."

"I didn't think he'd be your type," Ronon said, pounding him on the back again.

Shrugging, John started to scan the crowd. "He's just... he's Rodney."

"His garments were very beautiful as well," Teyla said. John glanced back, catching the tail-end of a disapproving look she'd apparently sent Ronon.

"Honestly, both Radek and I think he's going to win." John smiled at a minor celebrity who came over.

"John, your collection was beautiful. I could see myself wearing all of your garments." She handed him a card. "When this is all finished, I'd love to talk to you about a commission."

A thrill went through him. "Thank you so much. It would be an honor to work with you."

"I know a few others who would die to wear your clothes. Do you have a card?"

Fortunately, Teyla, actually, had made him some before he had left "just in case". John shot her a grateful look as he pulled one of them out of his pocket. "That has my email and my cell phone on it."

"Perfect," the star—John hadn't even looked at her name on the card she'd given him—exclaimed. "We'll be in touch."

John watched her walk away, amazed. He actually had famous people who wanted to wear his stuff.

Seconds later, John was assaulted by more people—old Project Runway designers and other stars and starlets. He had more cards than he knew what do to with and he vaguely realized that Teyla was handing out his cards to even more people.

By the time one of the production assistants found him, he realized he still hadn't managed to find Rodney so he could introduce him to Teyla and Ronon.

"John, we've got to get you back to Parsons. You'll be able to see everyone later."

He nodded. They might have had a good show, but they still had to face the judges one more time. "I'll see you guys later, okay?"

"Good luck, John," Teyla said with a smile. "We shall see you later."

He nodded, and followed the assistant out the door. This was it. Nerves that had gone away in the rush of a successful show came back with a vengeance. He was put into the back of a small SUV and they were off seconds later, heading to Parsons. Except for him and the driver, the car was empty.

When he arrived, he found he was the last one to get there. Rodney and Radek were already in the holding room. John immediately walked over and gave them both huge hugs. "Congratulations, guys!"

"Your collection was beautiful," Radek said as he stepped back. "I wish you were not so talented."

John smiled. "Same to you. All three collections were just amazing."

"And all those stars fawning over you," Radek said with a smile. "You should be proud."

John blushed. "They just want me to work for them. No matter what happens tonight, I think all three of us have our careers made."

"Maybe," Rodney said, shifting nervously on his feet.

John hugged Rodney close. "Your stuff was breathtaking."

"We'll see what the judges say," Rodney said, letting John hold him for a few more seconds before he started shifting away. "We should probably…get ready and whatnot."

"Yeah. They'll call us in soon. It will be interesting to hear what they say. Oh! And after all this, Teyla and Ronon are here! I want you to meet them."

Before Rodney could respond, the production assistant was at the door. It was time to go. They all took deep breaths, almost in sync with each other, and filed out to the runway.

The judges still looked amazing—all dressed up from the runway event. They all smiled at them, but it was Heidi who spoke. "Welcome designers and congratulations on a fantastic show."

They all smiled as she continued. "All three of you created and displayed fantastic collections, and made us proud. However, only one of you can be named the winner."

She paused for a long moment, looking at each of them. "John. Tell me why you should win this competition."

He took a deep breath. "Well, I'm proud of what I did, not only tonight, but all season. For this collection, my inspiration was the sea, and I think I really captured what I was going for."

"Your collection was flawless," Michael Kors said. "I was very impressed."

John flushed. "Thank you."

Heidi immediately turned to Rodney, pinning him with the same question. Rodney stumbled through his answer—something about workmanship and technical skill.

John shook his head slightly. Rodney still didn't believe he was creatively talented, and it was a shame. Michael complimented Rodney's collection and then Heidi moved onto Radek, asking the same question of him.

After that, the models came out, and each of their collections was examined in-depth.

They got to explain each and every piece and defend their fabric choices, their design choices. The judges weren't leaving anything alone.

By the time they were dismissed to return to the holding room while the judges debated, they were worn out all over again.

Rodney had collapsed in a corner, eyes closed as his head leaned back against the cushions. Radek headed to the side buffet table, grabbing a water.

John fell onto the couch next to Rodney. "Well."

"Yeah," Rodney said with a sigh. "My sister came."

John smiled. "That's awesome! I'd like to meet her, and introduce you to Teyla and Ronon."

"She's never done anything like that before."

"Did she say why she came?"

"Carson probably guilted her or dragged her or something." Rodney shrugged, turned his head and opening his eyes to look at John. "It's just…weird. She's never thought much of what I do."

"Well, maybe she didn't think you could make a career out of it until she suddenly realized you were. That happens sometimes."

"No. That's not it. I probably owe her money."

"Why do you always assume the worst?"

"Because I'm a realist and nothing in my life has ever turned out for the better. I'd rather be ready for the worst and then pleasantly surprised if it doesn't happen—not that it ever works that way."

"You're in the finale of Project Runway. You have me." John smiled at him.

Rodney sighed quietly, his hand reaching out to touch the side of John's face. "I wish it were that easy."

"It can be, if you let it." John leaned into the touch.

Rodney's thumb swept his cheekbone, his eyes fixed on John's skin. John hummed softly, his eyes falling closed.

John took a deep breath, breathing in Rodney's scent, and wishing he could somehow make it all right for the other man. All he could do, though, was continue to not give up on him...

***

Rodney jerked awake, groaning as his hand immediately went to his neck which was spasming in pain. His brain, though, was still looping through the nightmare that had awakened him—clowns and whales and naked runway shows… He shuddered.

Someone pushed his hand out of the way and started to massage the offending muscle.

"Ow ow ow!"

"Shhh, relax. Let me work it out for you." John's voice was soft.

"It hurts."

"I know. You managed to fall asleep with it at a weird angle, so now it's cramping. Try to relax. the more you stiffen up, the worse it will be."

"I am relaxed," Rodney grumbled, but let John rub out the muscle, trying to hold the groaning back.

"There you go." John leaned in and gave the spot a little kiss. "You can choose a more comfortable spot and go back to sleep if you want. No idea how much longer the judges will debate."

"How long was I napping?" Rodney asked, shifting on the couch so he could face John. He spotted Radek asleep on the other couch.

"Less than an hour."

"God, that's it? How long do you think they're going to be?"

John shrugged, leaning back into the couch, where it looked like he had probably been before Rodney woke up. "As long as it takes."

"Sorry, did I wake you? I didn't mean to."

"No, I wasn't sleeping. Just enjoying watching you."

Rodney rolled his eyes and shoved himself to his feet, heading toward the food. "I'm not that interesting to look at. Want anything?"

"Water, since you're up. And actually, yes you are."

Rodney grabbed a water bottle and tossed it over to John. "No, not really." He turned back to check the sandwiches, grabbing two turkey and cheese and dumping them on a plate. He grabbed another water bottle and a bag of chips before heading back to the couch and John. "I hope we're not going to be here all day."

"Yeah. I wonder what it means, that it's taking them this long."

"It's taken them longer on some challenge days," Rodney said, offering John the other sandwich as he took a bite of his.

"I know. I guess I just want to know, and have this be over. It's been fun, but I'm ready to move on now."

"Honestly, I want to sleep for a week."

"That, too."

Rodney sighed, chewing on his sandwich for a few minutes, vaguely realizing he was watching Radek sleep.

"Who do you think is going to win?"

"Sorry? What? Oh…you probably."

John shook his head. "I think it's going to be you."

"No. I doubt it. Your collection was…god, you could feel the ocean with your collection."

"And yours was just... breathtaking. I could never do anything like that."

"Of course you could. You have the skills."

"But not the vision. I know you don't think it of yourself, but you're a freaking genius."

"Well, I always tested well on those kinds of tests, but can you really trust them? I don't think so."

John waved his hand. "That wouldn't surprise me, but that wasn't what I meant. You are a creative genius. You see things none of the rest of us can, and then you have the skills to make them a reality."

Rodney snorted. "Sure. Right. Are you going to eat that sandwich?"

John took a bite, chewing and swallowing before he answered. "I don't know why you let what some jealous bastard said to you way back when color your opinion of yourself. What will it take to make you believe in yourself?"

"I'm a realist, John. I always will be," Rodney said, getting up to grab a few cookies. He wanted something sweet now. "Haven't we had this conversation before?"

"No, a realist would be accepting what you can see and touch and hear. You've had countless people, including some of the best in our field, tell you how amazing you are, but you refuse to listen."

"Because I know me. I know what I can do."

"No, you know what someone told you. You still do it, but you allow that cloud of hate to obscure your vision when you look at your own stuff. Do me a favor. Try, I mean really try, to see your collection as if it were mine. What would you tell me?"

Rodney sighed, leaning against the wall, cookies in his hand. "Why is it so much of an issue with you? I’m okay with it. I'm okay with my limitations. My therapist says it's good to know what you're capable of. It's healthy."

John sat up, giving him an intense look. "Because if you can do this when you're still crippled with self-doubt, I can only imagine where you could go if you could let it go and really see yourself the way the rest of us do when it comes to your designs. You have the ability and the vision to be the best designer of our generation. Maybe of the last several generations. But you'll never get there if you only let yourself see the flaws, and not the genius."

Rodney rolled his eyes.

John shrugged. "I really believe that."

"I can see that."

"I wish you really could. I wish I had some way to let you see your collection the way I do."

"How about we just stop arguing about it?"

"I thought we were just discussing, not arguing."

"We're disagreeing."

"So? That doesn't mean we're arguing. You can disagree without fighting about it."

"Semantics."

"I'm not angry or upset, and that's usually required to fight."

Rodney shrugged. "What does it matter?"

"I'm hoping that maybe one day you'll listen to someone who has praise for you, instead of only listening to people who put you down."

"I'm going to go to the bathroom since we're going to be here forever. When I come back can we have a different conversation?"

John shrugged. "Sure."

Rodney nodded and headed off at a slow pace. He didn't need to pee, but he needed to walk around. Honestly, he was nervous. He didn't know what to expect—and he hated that. He didn't want to get his hopes up, either. He really wanted to win. He did. And he thought he could, but…

Rodney took his time and ended up wandering around the hallways for a few minutes before heading back to the green room.

John was still in the same spot Rodney had left him in, and it looked like he had finally dozed off.

That was good. He needed the sleep. Rodney ended up in one of the big chairs, putting his feet up on the coffee table as he paged through the magazines that had been left behind.

It was another half-hour before an assistant finally came in, waking them all up and getting them moving back out to the runway.

"That's it? Two hours?" Rodney asked as she was trying to usher them out the door.

"Yes sir. They've made the final decision."

"Huh." Rodney had thought it would take longer than two hours to make such a life altering decision. He followed them to the stage, taking his position.

It took them a few minutes to get everyone where they wanted them, and for the cameras to take some stock shots before Heidi finally got the ball rolling. "Designers, you did not make this decision easy for us."

Rodney snorted and rolled his eyes. They weren't supposed to make it easy. That's why it's a competition.

"One of you will be named the winner of Project Runway. You will leave here with $100,000 to start your line, a spread in Marie Claire magazine, and the opportunity to sell your line on bluefly.com."

Rodney took a deep breath. This was it. They were getting down to it now. The last few minutes.

"Each of you presented us with a solid, sellable, dynamic collection. Radek." Heidi looked over at him.

Oh god. Oh god. No. It can't be him. It can't.

"I'm sorry, but you're out."

"I…yes," Radek said quietly, nodding. "I understand."

Heidi came over to hug him, and then he gave John and Rodney both a hug before heading offstage.

It was down to the two of them now. Who would it be? Rodney was convinced John would walk away with the money and the title and all the fame. It was easy to see.

"John. Rodney. One of you will be named the winner of Project Runway."

It would mean so much if he won, but Rodney knew—knew deep in his heart—that the winner wasn't him.

"John." Heidi looked at him. After a long pause, she gave him a small smile. "I'm sorry, but you are out. That means Rodney, you are the winner!"

Rodney blinked and shook his head. "Ah…sorry?"

John grinned at him and gave him a big hug. "You won!"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No no no, you heard it wrong."

Heidi walked over. "You are the winner of this season of Project Runway, Rodney. Congratulations. Your vision along with your impeccable skills to bring that vision to life made a huge impact on the audience at the show, as well as the judges."

Rodney blinked a few more times, trying to wrap his brain around what was going on. He had to be living in some kind of a nightmare or dream or something. He glanced down. No. Still wearing clothes and no clowns to be seen. "I won?"

"You won." Heidi pulled him into a hug. "Congratulations."

Oh. My. God. "I won?" he asked again just as Heidi let him go.

"You won." She laughed softly.

"But…John…" Rodney said, blinking his eyes again as his vision got a little blurry. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, clearing his vision briefly.

"I was good, but I keep telling you—your collection was a work of art."

"Oh god," Rodney said, his voice breaking a little. "I won."

John hugged him again. "You won."

Rodney laughed—a little hysterically, he'd admit—and hugged John back hard. "Oh god. I won."

John laughed softly. "You really did it, buddy."

The next while—how long Rodney didn't know—was a big blur in his mind. He was congratulated by all the judges and then Carson and Jeannie were there hugging the stuffing out of him.

Radek was there at one point, and Evan, and of course, John was by his side. It was like a never-ending parade of hugs.

There were cameras and photographers and flashing lights and people—lots of people.

Production assistants were pushing paperwork in front of him to sign in order to get the prize money and everything else. He was told, he thought, that he would be given a check later in the week. He was shoved toward PR flacks and media people. They needed quotes and clothing sizes and he had to okay travel arrangements.

It was, in one word, insane.

By the time he finally fell into bed—nearly twenty-four hours after getting up—John was out cold. Rodney had lost him somewhere in the evening hours as Rodney had gotten shoved and pushed and pulled all around.

Everything was still very overwhelming, but there was something about coming back to the hotel room and finding John in his bed that was just very satisfying. It calmed in the way nothing else could. He was the one constant in the stormy sea of Project Runway.

What would happen tomorrow, let alone months from now, was anyone's guess. But right now, Rodney was just happy to slide into bed, curling around John. He fell asleep to the soft sounds of John's breath and his heartbeat.

***

John stretched out, smiling to himself at the noises coming from his small kitchen. Rodney was already up, and from the smell of it, making coffee. It had been almost two months since Project Runway was over—and they hadn’t been idle ones. After meeting each other’s friends and visiting Canada and California, Rodney had decided to move in with John. They were in the process of looking for a bigger space that would accommodate them both living and working together, because the show had done more than just brought them together.

It had launched their careers.

They had put their heads together and decided to start J&R Designs, and with all the media attention and prize money Rodney had won, they were off to a good start. They already had a roster of twenty clients who wanted single garments made, and the two of them were talking about what they wanted to do for their first collection together to show in the fall.

In all, life was good. John rolled out of bed and wandered into the kitchen, coming up behind Rodney to put his arms around the other man’s waist and kiss the back of his neck. “Morning.”

"Mmm…" Rodney hummed, relaxed in a way that John had never known until a few weeks ago. He leaned back into John's body, letting him take some of his weight. Rodney was still sleep-warmed and his hair was sticking up. He hadn't been up long.

"What's for breakfast?"

"Coffee." Rodney leaned back against him a little more.

John snorted a little into Rodney's hair. They had this conversation every morning, and it never ceased to amuse him. "And?"

Rodney shrugged silently, turning in John's arms. "Enough," he mumbled into John's shoulder.

Smiling, John tilted his head to give Rodney room. "We've got that space to look at today, the one that has living and working space, and room downstairs for a showroom."

"It's later. Have time."

"Yeah. Wanna get dressed and go for pancakes at that little place down the street?"

"Coffee first."

"Well yeah, after you finish that cup."

"Maybe," Rodney said, just like John knew he would. Once John had finally gotten Rodney to California, he'd been holed up in the apartment more or less 24/7. John had managed to get him out a handful of times, but it was a fight each and every time.

"No maybe about it. We both have to be there to see the space, and the restaurant is on the way. We both need the fresh air."

"Kors will be alone."

"He'll be fine for a couple of hours."

Honestly, the cat had been adjusting better than Rodney.

Rodney tightened his arms around John, nipping at the skin of his shoulder, soothing it with his tongue a few moments later. "I know something else we can do."

John pulled away. "Okay, seriously, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rodney said, looking up with sleep-glazed eyes. "If you don't want to…you know," he said his eyes adding the invisible quote marks, "we don't have to."

"That's not what I mean. You're not really happy here, are you? I mean, you really don't like California."

Rodney sighed, shifting away from John, rubbing a hand over his face. "I moved all my crap to another country, applied for citizenship, and you think I don't want to be here?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. You won't talk to me. I think you're happy, but at the same time, you almost seem afraid of it. I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable. Talk to me."

"I'm not unhappy," Rodney said, turning away, reaching for a mug for his coffee. "I'm just…I don't like change. I'm doing the best I can."

John led them both into the living room, sitting down on the couch with Rodney pulled up against him. "I know, but it's been weeks now, and you still never want to leave the house. It's almost like you're scared to walk out the door. I want us to build this business and our lives together, but we can't do that if you never want to leave the apartment for anything."

"I'm not scared to walk out the door," Rodney said, stiffening in John's arms.

"You know what I mean. Every time I try to get you to come out with me, even just to breakfast, you start looking for reasons not to go. Why?"

"I like it here. We can be doing other…fun stuff here."

"I know, but we can't live on sex alone. We have to get out, see things, see new places, experience life, so we can bring that all back and put it into our designs. Plus, it will give us new ideas for things to try on each other."

"I know," Rodney said with a sigh. "Can I at least drink my coffee before we go?"

"Of course. And I don't want you to feel forced. I just... I don't get what's wrong. In New York, you liked going out as much as I did, but here..."

"I said I'll go."

"But you're just doing it because you want to appease me, not because you actually want to. I want to know what you want."

"I don't know what you want!" Rodney said, pulling away from John and moving back into the kitchen, banging around as he got sugar and milk for his coffee. "I'm doing the best I can right now."

John sighed. "I'm not trying to fight. I'm just trying to understand what you want, so I can give it to you."

"I wanted lazy morning sex, but that's not happening now."

"Not just today, but every day. What do you want?"

Rodney was silent for a few minutes. All John could hear was the sound of him moving around in the kitchen. John was almost certain Rodney wasn't going to answer him and was surprised to hear the quiet reply, "I don't know. I just…I miss my home. I miss Carson."

"So let's figure out what would make you happy. I love it here, but I don't want you to have regrets."

"I didn't say I had regrets," Rodney said, appearing a few moments later, his hands wrapped around a coffee mug. "I'm just…this is harder than I thought."

John smiled. "So tell me what I can do to make it easier. Do you want to invite Carson to come down and visit? Do you want to go back there for a visit?"

"I don't know and it's not like we have room to put anyone here. It's stupid. Just forget about it. I’m going to get in the shower."

John stood and wrapped his arms around Rodney again. "I want to make you happy. Think about it, okay? Even if it's just inviting Carson to come once we get a new place, or taking a trip, or whatever it is."

"You do, more than you know. It's just silly to be homesick. I wasn't this homesick when I left home as a teenager."

"It's not silly. Not at all. But maybe if we explore the neighborhood more, and really put more effort into finding a space that will be for both of us, instead of you staying in my old place, that will help."

"I don't know," Rodney said with a shrug. "I'm just not good with change."

"You don't have to be. And if that's all it is, I can deal. I just didn't know if you were having second thoughts."

"I'm not having second thoughts. It's just…this is your home, your friends, your favorite places. Sometimes it's hard not to have any point of reference except for you."

"That's one of the reasons I want to get you out more. So you can find your own places, your own spots."

"My cat even likes you better."

"No he doesn't, trust me."

"I'm just…out of sorts. I'll try to be better for you."

John hugged him tighter, and kissed him gently. "I just want you to be happy, whatever that takes."

"I am happy. With you. It's just…a lot to take in. A lot has changed."

"I know." John kissed him again. Rodney was silent, but John could tell that he wasn't done. He waited him out, knowing Rodney would fill in the silence. Sure enough, he did a few moments later.

"Maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

Rodney paused, seeming to pick his words. "Maybe it would be nice to have Carson come and visit, stay for a while."

"Of course. We can call him and make any arrangements you want. I want you to be happy with this, Rodney, with us. This is about the two of us."

"Then…maybe we can look for some place else that's…ours. Your place is nice. It's fine, but…"

John nodded. "But it's mine. So we'll look for something that will be perfect for the two of us. Maybe Carson can help us look."

"Really?"

"Really." John offered him a soft smile. "Finish your coffee and shower. We'll go have a nice breakfast and then go looking at places that will be for both of us."

Rodney kissed him back, lingering, before he leaned back, licking his lips. "We still have some time."

"You know, I believe we do."

Rodney gave him that brilliant smile and took his hand, leading John back into the bedroom. He left his coffee mug on the first available flat surface.

It was nice, without the cameras or people in the next room. They still both enjoyed undressing each other slowly, a piece at a time, marveling in how good it all felt.

John couldn't help but send a happy thought to Project Runway. He hadn't gone there expecting to find everything, but that was exactly what he had now.

***

End


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